


Sinister Close

by hornblowerfic_archivist



Category: Hornblower (TV), Hornblower - C. S. Forester
Genre: Action/Adventure, Explicit Sexual Content, Gen, Graphic Sex, Horror, Humor, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-07-21
Updated: 2009-07-21
Packaged: 2018-05-23 18:14:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 31,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6125623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hornblowerfic_archivist/pseuds/hornblowerfic_archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Horatio attends a party with the Edringtons and falls for a ripe young lass, finding himself intrigued and embroiled in the mystery she finds herself at the center of, only to find that her father is a somewhat disagreeable figure from his past.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Versaphile, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Hornblowerfic.com](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Hornblowerfic.com). Deciding that it needed to have a more long-term home, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in January 2016. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact the e-mail address on [Hornblowerfic.com collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/hornblowerfic/profile).

"I'm glad you could make it, Mr. Hornblower," the Earl of Edrington said, the slight quirk to the corner of his mouth letting Horatio know that the man was truly glad to see him as he awkwardly stepped out of his carriage and onto the threshold of Edrington estate's palatial manor house, Abberline Cross. "I am sure I am not the first but let me offer my congratulation on your newly appointed commission, Commander."

"Thank you, milord," Horatio managed a clumsy smile. He'd been staying in a rather cramped and not entirely pleasant boarding house in Portsmouth when he'd gotten the Major's invitation to come stay for the week. He had gladly though somewhat hesitantly excepted; he knew he didn't exactly fit in among the posh crowd and the gentry. But at the time anything had sounded better than spending the rest of his shore leave in that dreadful place. "I heard I am to congratulate you as well. Was this you and Lady Edrington's second?"

"Third," he corrected proudly. "Tabitha was the first, she's nearly seven now. Rowena came next and Samantha is our most recent addition. She much resembles Frances, my wife." He stopped in the doorway and turned to Horatio in earnest. "I am so glad you could come."

"I was honored that you thought of me..."

"Oh, nonsense." As he showed Horatio into the main hall, Edrington waved his hand at the servants silently ordering them to deal with Hornblower's meager baggage, which consisted of but one valise. A few guests had already arrived for the week-long gathering and they nodded politely, chiefly to the Earl, as the two friends passed by. "I was much grieved to hear of Lieutenant Kennedy; he was a good man. And of you? You are well?"

"Passable," Horatio answered with a half-smile, a haunted shadow crossing his face. It had been difficult for him, the hardest period of time he'd had to endure since his mother had passed on, that long lonely month after Archie's death sailing back in Retribution to England. He had not seen Bush since his departure from Kingston and had begun to feel melancholy creeping upon him.

At length they came to the parlor, where a group of merry guests sat around a circular table by a great window whose bright panes did nothing to dull the golden sunshine that filtered through them so cheerfully. They appeared to be playing cards, the three men and two women; something simple so that the ladies could easily comprehend the rules.

One of those esteemed gentlewomen looked absolutely bored out of her wits while the other... Horatio's heart caught in his throat as he looked upon her; hair so brown it could have been black shining in the noonday light, her thick glossed curls cascading down her shoulders and back. Her skin was pale and slightly freckled, her eyes large and dark brown as Horatio had never seen the like of accentuated by strong dark eyebrows and she wore a wide smile across her full strawberry mouth that spoke not of courteous laughter but of true and pure gaiety. She was not what could conventionally be called a handsome woman but something about her struck him to the core. She vaguely reminded him of someone but he was quite sure whomever it was had not been so beautiful or he should have remembered.

"Ah, I see you've already taken a fancy to our Miss Corisande," Edrington said with a hint of a smirk, his keen eyes missing none of the expressions that had passed over Horatio's face when his eyes had first fallen upon her. "She is quite marvelous. But I do think you should know, her father..."

"Snap!" the woman, Corisande, called delightedly and suddenly as she threw her card down and slapped her hand upon the pile of others at the center of the table, her voice echoing in the high-ceilinged room like a lullaby. She laughed fully with whole her heart and clapped her hands, and, catching sight of Edrington and his mysterious friend, she waved them over. "Fourth time in a row, Alexander," she told the Earl, her face beaming, "though Lord Peter here has promised to teach me something that requires a bit more skill. I should like to learn whist."

"What a coincidence," Edrington smiled shrewdly, "my friend here, Commander Hornblower, is an excellent whist player. But I haven't introduced him yet, have I? Miss Corisande, the honorable Lady Jane, this is Commander Horatio Hornblower of His Britannic Majesty's Royal Navy."

Lady Jane, the bored looking one, afforded him only a glance and a polite nod of her head whereas Corisande took Horatio's hand graciously as he bowed to her. Hornblower, hadn't her father mentioned that name before? A rose colored blush stained her cheeks. He was handsome indeed; with his soft brown curls, full mouth and deep haunted eyes. She wondered at the pain that seemed to be carried within him, buried heavily but not without evidence upon his saddened features. "A naval hero, how very exciting!" she said. "And a whist player to boot! Perhaps he shall teach me as Lord Peter is only intent on showing me games that call for little to no intellect." She shot the dashing young man seated across from her at the table a scornful look. It was obvious that her bubbly manner had somehow branded her of little intelligence but Horatio had seen something different as their eyes had met, a moment ago as he was being introduced; a common sense behind her radiant eyes that he felt perhaps few had seen before him.

"How do you find your new dwellings at Valiant Close, Cora?" Edrington inquired. "Are you settling in?"

"Quite nicely, thank you," replied Corisande, stealing curious glances at Horatio who seemed oddly uncomfortable. She noticed that all at the table were doing their best to ignore him and make him feel as out of place as possible. She glared sideways at Lady Jane as she added, "Jenny is helping Father and me establish ourselves quite wonderfully." Lady Jane bristled visibly at the sound of her nickname being spoken.

"Hornblower," Mr. Froderick Fielding, one of the other gentlemen present, suddenly remembered, "I recall the name now! Something I read in the papers, some business out in the Indies; a hero I believe, though the papers always do tend to exaggerate," he said in a flippant way much to the amusement of the others at the table save for Corisande.

"Commander Hornblower was with me at Muzillac," Alexander said firmly before Horatio had a chance to speak for himself, irritation evident in his voice at the blatantly cruel treatment of his friend and comrade. All present knew what was suffered at Muzillac and knew also that it was not a subject to be taken lightly by the Earl.

"A hero then, indeed," Corisande was the first to speak and speak she did in warmth and honesty. "Will you not join us for a game of cards, Commander?"

"Indeed I would like to, Miss, but I think I should get my things unpacked first," Horatio cleared his throat, eager on the one hand to get away from the viscous crowd and on the other to get to know Corisande better. "Excuse me." Alexander escorted him away.

"Unpack his things?" Froderick asked, astonished. "Shouldn't his valet be doing that sort of thing?"

"Don't be so ignorant, Freddie," scoffed Lady Jane. "He most likely does not have a valet. Naval men have very little use for them, you know."

"I found him quite pleasant," Corisande interjected.

"Hear, hear," agreed the third man at the table, Joseph Whyte-Harris. "Now shall we get on with it?" he asked, shuffling the deck of cards.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"Pay no heed to that group," Edrington told his friend as they ascended the stair. Horatio commented on how he found Miss Corisande most agreeable and Alexander gave him a sly smile. "So I noticed. Indeed, if it weren't for Cora, I wouldn't have even invited Lady Jane and her pompous lot. Frances was loathe to think of her stranded at Valiant with those jackals while her father was to sea." They rounded the corner of the opulent west wing hallway where the guest quarters were and Edrington directed Horatio to his chambers. "Say, I have warned you about her father, haven't I? Seems the two of you have a bit of history, if what I heard was true. You see, he's..."

Suddenly, a servant appeared seemingly out of nowhere and begged their pardon but the Earl's presence was needed elsewhere. "Sorry, old man, duty calls. Just between you and me, I'd rather be facing all of Napoleon's army than have to deal with the party preparations. This is my man Parker," he introduced the mannered man awaiting them in Horatio's chambers, "he'll look after your needs. I best be off now. Talk to you later." And with that he left.

"If everything is settled, sir..." Parker inquired and Horatio waved him away inexpertly. The manservant bowed graciously and departed with a smile, leaving Horatio to his own devices. Removing his jacket and loosening his neckerchief, he lay upon the bed, which was much larger and softer than he was used to, and his mind began to wander off. It came promptly to the subject of Miss Corisande and her blushing generous smiles, her dark brow and the somewhat awkward curve of her slender neck that led so temptingly to that bountiful swell of her lovely bosom. He smiled unconsciously thinking of her. Maybe this week wouldn't be quite as bad as he had been anticipating after all.


	2. Chapter 2

Evening descended in a swirl of grayish purple sky with wisps of thin milky mist settling upon the darkening green of the grounds. The air was warm but humid and carried a slight chill on the breeze. Horatio sat alone in the rose garden, gazing up at the stars which one by one twinkled to life within the deepening velvet of the heavens. The sounds of merriment drifted to him through the opened doors of the ballroom. But he wanted none of it; he wanted the silence and solitude of the darkness. Among that crowd he had felt so out of place, lonelier than he had been when he was a solitary boy. And he hadn't spotted Corisande anywhere. Dammit, why couldn't he stop thinking about her?! Maybe it was the way she had smiled at him, the softness of her hand as he took it within the grasp of his larger rougher one, the undeniable spark of life in her eyes. She wasn't like them, he could tell.  
  
The sound of delicate footsteps on the worn stone path drew him out of his thoughts and for a moment he considered hiding so as not to be disturbed. But something kept him where he was, sitting upon the stone bench among the rose bushes, and he was glad of it when the figure of a petite young woman came into view. She seemed to carry a glow, backlit and illuminated as she was by the brilliant colors of the lanterns hanging in the gardens that were in closer proximity to the house. Her face could not be seen clearly at first but Horatio knew who it was. He knew not just from the glossy curl of her hair or the wide shoulders and rounded hips which he'd been admiring so since this afternoon, but from the way she carried herself; the light way she stepped as she hurried his way. She stopped suddenly with a startled 'oh' when she spotted him. "Hullo there," Corisande's voice called out. "I say, you wouldn't mind terribly if I joined you out here, would you?"  
  
"N-no, of course not," he said, quickly remembering his manners and standing as she moved to sit upon the bench beside him. He followed suit. "Why are you not in there with the rest of the party?"  
  
"For the same reason as you, I suspect," she smiled. She felt suddenly awkward, being alone in the dark with this stranger, but the soft light from the fathomless pools of his eyes put her at ease somehow. "Nice night," she said good-naturedly, trying to make agreeable conversation. It had been a long time since she had cared what anyone had thought of her; her stomach was all in butterflies and she couldn't for the life of her come up with anything witty to say and yet the feeling strangely wasn't entirely unpleasant. "I do say, the stars seem brighter than I've ever seen them." `Well there's a stupid remark,' she chastised herself. `He'll think you a right idiot now!' Instead, he just seemed to smile thoughtfully.  
  
"Indeed they do," he responded softly, leaning forward to afford himself a better view of the celestial bodies dazzling in all their brilliance against the now rich dark blue of the night sky. It reminded him of being at sea; how the sky seemed to go on forever over the endless expanse of the ocean. For a moment the shadow was lifted from him, the hollowness in his eyes was gone, and Corisande, with a slight but sharp intake of breath, saw him for the first time in all his unobstructed handsomeness. The barely audible gasp drew his attention towards her, and he realized she was shivering. His eyes were drawn inexplicably downwards to her plump bosom where her nipples had puckered from the growing cold of the evening and were now standing out quite obviously beneath the silk of her gown. He felt an undeniable stirring within himself, a warmth spreading from his chest and a tightening in his groin. The tantalizing image of her naked body filled his thoughts suddenly, and he fought to push it away as quickly as he could. Without a second thought, he removed his jacket and placed it upon her shoulders. She smiled shyly but encouragingly as she hugged it to her body, taking in the fresh fragrance of soap and the masculine musk of Horatio's scent that emanated from it. Emboldened by her receptive response to the gesture he decided to pursue a conversation. "Did you grow up around here?" he asked.  
  
"Nay," she replied with a musical laugh. "Before he had a command of his own, my father had a modest homestead in the north country. I grew up there as a child just as he did. We moved to London some years back. I liked that well enough. And then, when my father decided to take Jenny as his bride about a year ago..."  
  
"Jenny?" Horatio frowned. "You don't mean Lady Jane?" Surely, the woman couldn't have been but a few years older than Corisande! Horatio had seen it before; it was nothing new to him, an older man taking a younger bride, but never had it offended him quite so much as it did in this instance. Perhaps it was the idea of someone as vibrant and lovely as Corisande having to answer to such a shrewish woman as mother and head of house; whatever the reason, it ate away at him like anger in the pit of his stomach.  
  
"The very one," Cora confirmed. "We moved into her ancestral estate, Valiant Close. Valiant," she scoffed. "More like Sinister Close, if you ask me. That place gives me the creeps, as if there's always a dark shadow hanging over it. And I'm stuck alone there while father is at sea; that's why Alexander invited me here, I know. Out of pity because he cares not for Jenny and her viscous circle, and neither do I. It's haunted, you know; the Close I mean. My father has seen the apparition in his room, at night; though no one will believe him I just know he wouldn't make it up, or that he wasn't just dreaming as Jenny believes. But what am I saying? You are probably far too practical to believe in such strange fancies of a young girl." 'Well now you've done it, old girl; if he didn't think you an simpleton before he must surely do now!'  
  
Horatio had to admit that he had thought very little towards the idea of ghosts and had it been any other speaking to him on the subject, he would have most likely laughed and berated them for such silly and superstitious beliefs. But the most beautiful, radiant woman in all of England was now seated beside him, speaking to him, preferring his company to all the fair crowd within the manor and he was not about to chase her off by belittling her or her convictions. Part of him theorized that she must be very lonely to make up such stories. Before he could stop himself he blurted out the first thing that had come into his head, "You must be dreadfully lonesome."  
  
She smiled at him, a sad light in her eyes as she sought his, finding in their tremendous depths understanding and sympathy without pity. "Mmmm," she shrugged. "But my father is happy and that means the world to me. I suppose he had hoped that Jenny and I would become friends in his absence. He's a naval man, such as yourself. As a matter of fact, I could have sworn that he's mentioned your name to me before. He..." she stopped abruptly. Heavy bootsteps were coming ever closer down the stone pathway. She stood for a moment and peered into the darkness. "Oh Lawd," she said turning to Horatio with desperation in her eyes, "It's Lord Peter! You have to help me hide; he's taken a fancy to me and won't leave me be! Please!"  
  
"Here," Horatio said, grabbing her wrist and pulling her gently deeper into the shadows and pressing her up against the inside wall of a nearby trellis, feeling the delicious softness of her voluptuous body bearing against his hard lean one. It sent a delightful tingle throughout his body.  
  
Apparently Corisande had felt it too for when she spoke, she was slightly out of breath. "This will never do; it's not dark enough, he'll spot us in a moment! Commander Hornblower," she said resolutely, taking his face in her hands, "I am aware that this is scandalously improper. Do forgive me but I'm *desperate*!" With that, she pulled his head down towards hers and pressed her lips firmly to his. Horatio was stunned for a moment, his eyes wide with shock as their mouths met, as he felt the sweetness of her rosy lips melt against his own. As Corisande had but a little experience with such things, the kiss was at first inexpert. Horatio was almost too astonished to respond. Quickly, he struggled to regain his wits and his body rapidly began to react to the stimulation it was receiving. Growing bold, he placed his hands on her rounded hips and drew her closer to him, his lips promptly conquered hers and the kiss deepened as the velvet of his tongue forcibly gained entrance and ravaged the pleasing wet warmth of her mouth. With a whimper she gave into him, helplessly wrapping her arms around his neck and leaning further into him. So lost were they in their amorous activities they had hardly noticed that Lord Peter had come and gone, pausing only briefly to suss them out and deciding that they were naught more than an overly libidinous couple that had retreated to the gardens for a bit of privacy.  
  
Corisande could feel Horatio's arousal, stiff and demanding, pressed against her stomach and the thought that she was responsible for such a reaction exhilarated her, giving her an odd sense of power. Her own titillation was keen; her breasts throbbed and ached for his attention, her nipples tingling and peaking in thrill. Warmth spread out from deep within her belly to the coupling of her legs, causing hot wetness to drench the inside of her thighs. Her senses were reeling; she was dizzy, excited, intoxicated. She found herself lost in the sensations he was creating within her and wanting it to last forever.  
  
Horatio hadn't meant to lose control, it had just happened. With the clean scent of her skin filling his nostrils and the luscious taste of her in his mouth, his caresses became bolder. The slender fingers of one hand fiercely fondling her belly and breasts through the fabric of her frock while his other hooked around her waist, unwilling to let her go. Her sweet submission to his passionate attentions only inflamed him further as he devoured her lips hungrily and she arched her back, sinking further into his tight embrace. Time flowed by slow and thick like honey and the party, the manor house... indeed everything seemed a million miles away; as far off as the stars in the sky.  
  
Then, all of a sudden, Horatio remembered himself. He wrenched his lips away from hers, panting heavily as he looked down upon her, awaiting a slap of her hand or some such other punishment for being so much a cad and taking such liberties with her. None came; instead she looked back up at him, a small smile gracing her swollen lips. "Oh my," she said quietly, her arms still around his neck, a finger idly playing with a lock of his soft curling hair. She threaded her hand through his tresses and with that hold attempted to pull him down to her a second time. He resisted though he didn't pull away from her entirely. She frowned. "What's the matter?"  
  
"We shouldn't... I mean, I should not have..." He flushed thinking on how his hands had wandered her body, the many delectable parts of her they had felt. She looked so exquisite, so ravishing in the twilight glow. He pushed her hair from her shoulder and cupped the back of her neck with his large hand, opening his mouth as if to say something but no words came. She simply smiled back at him and took his arm in her hands, holding his in place where it rested behind the thick curtain of her dark tresses as she turned her head and pressed her lips to his wrist where his jacket and shirt had ridden up. His knees almost buckled beneath him right then and there, feeling the heat of her mouth upon his skin.  
  
Footsteps once again on the stone pathway drew their concentration away from each other as they watched silently from their hiding place peering through a diamond shaped pattern in the lattice work as two lovers came into view, unaware of Horatio and Cora's presence in the shadows. "Alex," the first figure, a shapely woman, whispered playfully into her companion's ear though it was said loud enough for the two to overhear from their place within the shelter of the trellis, "they'll notice we're missing."  
  
The second figure, a distinguished looking man whom Hornblower recognized after some scrutiny as Lord Edrington, grabbed his Lady by the waist and pulled her to him roughly but affectionately. "Let them, my Francie," he growled, nuzzling her neck as his hands came to rest upon her bottom pulling her over to the bench where Cora and Horatio had sat only feet away from where they stood now. Edrington's clever fingers quickly slipped his wife's garment past her shoulders and he exposed her breasts to the chill night breeze with a wicked grin.  
  
"Alexander!" she squealed delightedly as the rosy tips of her bosom peaked in the cool of the evening. "What if someone sees us?!"  
  
"The only ones out here, love," he responded huskily, lowering his head to gently tickle and pluck at her nipple with his tongue, "are the ones doing exactly what we are doing. They're too bust with their own activities to take notice of us." He fastened his lips firmly to the rosy morsel of her breast and began to suckle fiercely. Deep and wondrous moans of pleasure came from Frances' throat as she cradled his head to her, twining her fingers in his hair, and the sound of the smacking of his lips against her flesh carried strongly in the still of the eventide air.  
  
Corisande had to bury her face into the scratchy wool of Horatio's jacket to stifle her irrepressible giggles. "I don't think we ought to be seeing this," she stood on her tip toes to murmur quietly into his ear.  
  
"I agree," Horatio grinned, having to pry his eyes away from the scene unfolding in front of them. "Come, let's go." And the two of them managed to sneak off into the darkness without being seen. They succeeded in reaching the manor house and, stealing inside, they avoided the gathering by taking the servants' stair from the kitchen area to the second floor. Finally, Corisande succumbed to the giggling fit that wracked her body and even Horatio produced a small chuckle. "I suppose this is where we say goodnight," he said as their laughter slowly faded.  
  
"I suppose it is," she replied, fighting hard to compose herself. "Goodnight then, Mr. Hornblower." She turned from him, trying to conceal the girlish giddiness he sent her fluttering into. She took one step then turned back instantly, their bodies colliding in one last enthusiastic kiss. "Goodnight, then," she repeated, flushed from the sensation of his burning lips, "see you in the morrow." Horatio watched with a lecherous grin as she stumbled absent-mindedly down the hall to the ladies' guest chambers still wearing his uniform jacket, not entirely gentlemanly thoughts swimming in his head. 'In the morrow, my lady,' he thought to himself then happily retired to his own sleep chamber for a pleasant night's sleep and dreaming.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Curling up in her bed, Corisande drew beneath the covers with her Horatio's jacket. She rubbed her chin against the coarseness of its wool exterior, breathing deeply the potent male perfume that clung to it. She wondered if the scratchy fabric felt anything like the hair on his belly would feel against her cheek. She opened the jacket and burrowed her face into the silken lining, imagining that the skin of his groin to be so pleasingly smooth.  
  
She fell asleep with that last thought in her mind, a smile gracing full mouth.


	3. Chapter 3

Horatio was awake half the night, dreaming of things that he knew as a gentleman of honor he should not have even been contemplating. It would be so easy to sneak down the hallway to where the ladies slept; the party had ended hours ago, everyone was asleep and no one would notice his going. He would find her there laying upon her bed like some sort of wanton pagan goddess. He would ravish her; the weight of his body pinning her to the mattress, the force of his kisses smothering any protestations she might make. He would touch and taste and caress every part of her mercilessly until he felt the gratifying shudders of her crisis rip through her body. He fell into sleep sometime after four and overslept, much to his horror. He dressed quickly and without calling for Parker's aid. The very idea of not being able to clothe oneself seemed almost comical to Horatio; all those proper ladies and gentleman not even being able to get their own garments on without someone to help. Maybe he'd just gotten too used to the glamorous life of a seaman, he thought to himself sarcastically. He wondered with a smile if the gentry could even wipe their arses after taking a shite without assistance. He was in an uncharacteristically pleasant mood this morning due in no small part to the fact that he was about to see Corisande again.

It was then he realized his jacket was missing, that Corisande still held it from the night before. Very well then, he'd just have to do without it until such a time as he could retrieve it from her. Besides, wearing only his shirt and waistcoat gave him a somewhat rakish, casual look that he had to admit he rather favored. For the time being, at least.

Breakfast was waiting on the sideboard when he finally made his way to the breakfast parlor. It was greatly picked over and most of the guests had either started their tiresome journeys home or wandered off to nurse their splendid hangovers from last night's merrymaking. Corisande was there though, absently picking at the food upon the plate in front of her. She brightened as he entered as if she'd been waiting for specifically for him. Edrington was present as well as was the Lady Frances. The Earl stood, alert to his friend's presence, and presented his wife as he now realized he had neglected to do so yesterday. "Very pleased to meet you, Commander," the red-haired beauty said, graciously accepting his hand as he bowed before her. "My husband has told me so much about you, it is an honor to finally meet you."

Much to Horatio's horror, he found his gaze wandering from the charming Lady's evergreen eyes and fair face to the supple swell of her bosom. Images of what he and Cora had witnessed the night before, the Earl's amorous attentiveness to his wife's breast, would not leave his mind as he found his stare continually returning to her chest. He found, to his dismay, that his face had flushed in embarrassment and he hoped that no one had noticed. Evidently, Corisande had, for she was now fighting severely to suppress the giggle that was bubbling up inside of her. Her eyes met with Horatio's and they shared a secret knowing smile.

"Thank you, my Lady. And may I offer you my breast...ah, er... b-best and most sincere wishes on the recent birth of your second child." Horatio had recovered himself quickly but Corisande now looked as if she would pass out from the irrepressible spring of laughter she was holding back; her face had turned crimson and her chest heaved violently without any obvious intake of breath. As daintily as she could manage, she covered her mouth with her napkin and simulated such a coughing spell as to disguise the sound of her laughter.

"You must excuse us; I hate to abandon you, Mr. Hornblower," Edrington said with a small smirk, "for I have already taken breakfast and have promised my wife a morning ride around the grounds yet the hour is still early but grows later the more we tarry. But I am sure you will find much more enjoyable company with Miss Corisande." Horatio exchanged his pleasantries with Lady Frances and with the Earl, and just as he was about to leave, Edrington placed a firm hand on Hornblower's shoulder and told him in a low voice, "She waits for you all morning. I would definitely say the lady is smitten. Good luck, old man. I'm about to have a bit of my own!" He gave him a swift pat on the back and, escorting his wife with an arm wrapped fondly around her waist, left.

"Miss Corisande," he finally acknowledged properly with a tip of his head as he moved to the sideboard to retrieve his breakfast. "You are looking well this morning." Well? She was looking stunning, sumptuous, gorgeous!

"As are you, Mr. Hornblower," she returned with a smile. Grinning, he plucked a fresh blooming rose from the pewter vase that sat next to the breakfast dishes and as he made his way to the table he presented it to her with a bow. With a blush that matched the soft petals of the delicate flower, she accepted. She gasped in alarm when she saw the droplets of crimson that had begun to gather upon his fingertip for he had been stung by one of the rose's thorns. Adopting a positively wicked manner, she looked him in the eye and told him with a naughty quirk to her mouth, "Why, Mr. Hornblower, you've got a little prick!"

He chuckled; never had he heard a woman use such lewd innuendo before. Much to his surprise he was not offended but aroused. He decided to play her game. "What would you suggest, miss? Would you rub it?"

"Nay, for I fear that would only make it bigger," she responded, feigning innocence still. She took his large hand in her two small ones and placed a kiss to the scratch on his finger. "I have heard that sucking on it can help a great deal."

Horatio looked around to the other guests who still lingered in the room; most were too preoccupied or too hungover and lost in misery over it to notice the amusement the two of them were playing at. She put the rose aside, next to her plate and drew something out from her lap that had been hidden by the table cloth. "And now I have something for you," she said handing him his jacket. "I thought you'd be missing it." He accepted it with a grin, sitting beside her. "Jenny and her company have gone for a picnic," she informed him, obviously happy at the independence it afforded her, "so I'm free for the afternoon but I find myself without an escort. Would **you** do me the favor of escorting me around the grounds, Commander Hornblower?"

His grin deepened. "Of course, Miss Corisande."

"Do call me Cora," she blushed a lovely shade of pink.

"Then you must call me Horatio," he told her and ate as quickly as he could so they could be alone together all the sooner.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The sky was a clear blue with nary a cloud in sight save for a few errant feathery white clouds skimming the surface of calm azure. The sun shone brightly through the eaves of the ancient trees that grew upon the lands of Edrington Estate, casting lovely and fascinating shadow patterns on the stunningly green grass. "Over here," Corisande chose her spot beneath a particularly lovely old oak. Horatio spread the blanket he'd been carrying on the ground and assisted his charming companion in sitting upon it. He sat beside her and couldn't help but steal a quick kiss, so alluring was the soft arch of her luscious lips. She laughed, not at him but in delight, and reaching behind her released the pins that held the dark mass of her hair, letting it fall about her shoulders and fan out against the blanket as she leaned back upon her elbows. Horatio couldn't help but notice how her new position caused the swell of her full bosom to protrude slightly, temptingly. He ran his fingers through the thick wavy curls of her tresses and felt a thrill run through him as she leaned into the caress.

The way the trees swayed slightly in mild warm breeze, the clear brilliant sapphire sky that seemed to go on forever, it reminded him of Kingston and... Archie. Cora sensed the swift and unexpected change in Horatio's mood from serenely affectionate to sudden melancholy and she frowned. "Why are you so sad, Horatio?" she asked him, gazing deeply into his eyes.

"I lost someone I cared for very much," he replied stoically though it still tore at his insides like a knife. "A shipmate, a best friend, a brother; he sacrificed his honor for me. Two friends gone; one temporarily and one permanently."

"I'm here, Horatio," she said huskily, moving closer to him.

He regarded her with gentle eyes. "Cora, I would very much like to ask your permission to openly court you," he murmured, brushing his thumb against her cheek. Her skin felt so soft, like silk, beneath his callused finger. He felt her shiver.

"I thought that is what you were doing already, Horatio," she said quietly with a flushed smile. "Will you kiss me again as you did last night?" He obliged, taking her face in his hands and capturing her mouth with his once again, nibbling and sucking upon her bottom lip until she moan softly for more, for something deeper. His tongue skirted the seam of her lips, not so much as asking but demanding entrance. She gave in, parting her rosy lips obediently as his tongue swept inside, claiming all her sweetness for its own. He laid her back on the blanket and shifted so his legs lay beside hers but his chest loomed over her own. He kissed her like that for some time; fiercely, possessively, sublimely as his large hands explored the inviting curves of her body through the thin material of her frock. Emboldened by the extraordinary feel and taste of her, he moved his mouth down the column of her neck, planting wet sucking kisses down its length to her collarbone which his tongue tickled and teased as it moved across her skin, thrusting into the hollow at the base of her throat. She moaned again, making no attempt to stop him. His hand cupped her breast, pinching and massaging the nipple through flimsy fabric, feeling it bud and blossom into a firm little peak as he moved his mouth to the neckline of her gown.

He knew he should not be taking such liberties for he respected her more as a naval man's daughter than he ever would have a Lady or member of the peerage, but nuzzling the exposed valley between her ample breasts with kisses, breathing in her intoxicating scent of rosewater and arousal and hearing the sounds of pleasure coming from her mouth, he could not stop himself. He had plenty of opportunity to have a woman before this; Portsmouth was certainly not lacking in female companionship if you were willing to pay the fee. But this wasn't just about superficial physical gratification, this was a woman he was attracted to, fond of, maybe even falling in love with and he wanted to pleasure her as much as he wanted to find his own pleasure in her. He looked up at her face questioning whether he should continue. Half lidded eyes dark with her excitement met his stare and then fluttered shut in delight as she comprehended what he wanted to do; her breath was hard and fast, her lips parted as small tones of enticement issued forth from them. They both remembered the scene from the night before played out between Lord and Lady Edrington before them as Horatio's long fingers reached behind her and undid a few of the top buttons of her dress, working it down her shoulders and taking her shift with it until her breasts lay naked to him.

He lapped at the fat distended nipple, laving it hungrily with his tongue before suctioning his lips to it and suckling her noisily and greedily. Her cry of sheer joy sent shockwaves through him. His full mouth and tongue was wet and hot against her sensitive flesh as he feasted on one breast and then the other, devouring her, his appetite for her seemingly insatiable. She shut her eyes tightly, lost in the delicious sounds and sensations of his sensuous attentions as she thrust her hands into his hair, feeling his silken curls tickle and slip through her fingers.

His hand, at first resting on her hip, now traveled down her leg gathering her skirts in his fist and slowly tugging them up to her stockinged knees. His fingers snaked beneath the layers of material and, fondling her inner thigh, made their way upwards to their ultimate destination. She gasped violently as his knuckles grazed her dampened slit, her cheeks turning a deep crimson. He parted the swollen lips of her sex, delighting in the warm cream of her lust that now drenched his fingers as he moved inside. The tip of his thumb teased the hardened little morsel hidden within the juicy folds as his forefinger probed deeper. Lightning shot through her veins and cries of bliss flew from her throat as he found the entrance to her, inserting at first only his fingertip, teasing her lightly, soothing the satin walls of her snug little tunnel with her own nectar. He penetrated further and looked up at her startled as, against his expectation, he found there to be no maidenly resistance within her. Recovering quickly from his confusion and shock, he plunged his long finger into her passage all the way up to the knuckle, feeling her tight walls contract around him and suck him in deeper.

"Oh Gawd," she groaned, grasping at the blanket and throwing her head from side to side, "Horatio, don't stop! Please!" Her hips began to move against his hand in a small rocking motion and he met her movements, kissing her deeply as she let out a muffled yell and spent on his fingers. She lay sated in his arms for a good amount of time, not speaking just savoring his strength and his nearness as he brushed butterfly light kisses against her lips and cheeks and eyelids.

"Cora...." he said, something in his voice causing her to come back to reality from the lazy lustful haze she was lost in. She opened her eyes fully and sat up upon seeing the furrowing of his brow and the small frown on his lips. "You're not... I mean, you've..."

She tucked her knees beneath her chin and turned her eyes to him tentatively. "Are you... disappointed?"

"N-no!" he stammered. "That was wonderful! No, I just..."

"I'm not ashamed of it," she said almost wistfully. "It wasn't an accident or by force. Why should not women have their curiosities in pleasure as well as men? Would you like to hear how it happened?"

Hesitantly, Horatio shook his head yes, bracing himself for the tale to come.


	4. Chapter 4

"I was twelve years of age or thereabouts when we moved to London, my father and I. He was quite lonely for a while as my mother, who was much beloved to him, had just died not long before, but gradually he started to take up company again. A pleasant young thing named Kate was a favorite of his and often she'd come to visit at night when I was expected to be fast a-bed. Steadily my curiosity grew, as I lay awake listening to their heated voices, the strange cries and sounds they would make. One night, my inquisitiveness got the better of me and quietly I sneaked from my bed and came to the locked door of my father's private parlor. Kneeling upon the thick carpet I peered through the keyhole and beheld a most curious sight. Kate was laid out on the plush loveseat that was advantageously positioned so it faced the door; my father was on top of her. He was kissing her; not the chaste kisses he was so fond of showering me with. These were hungry, passionate kisses he was placing upon her lips and neck and naked breasts.

"As I watched he hauled her skirts up above her waist and she parted her legs, allowing him to position himself between them. 'My, what a beautiful little cunt you have, Kate,' I heard him say though I did not understand the word at the time. He lowered his head and kissed the sensitive spot betwixt her thighs, telling her, 'I think I shall have to put my prick in it now.' He undid his trousers and for the first time I caught sight of cupid's fleshy dart. With a mighty heave, he buried it within her, the two of them rocking to and fro whilst sounds of bliss came strongly from both their throats. It was then, watching the enjoyment and delectation upon her delicate features, the nearly pained face of ecstasy as she moaned and cried out her rapture as he kissed her breasts and mouth, thrusting his lance in and out of her repeatedly, that I myself began to feel a distinct tickle at the juncture of my own thighs, at the very place where my father had anchored himself to Kate. I touched myself through my nightdress and felt a thrill like none I had ever felt before. I began to rub there rather insistently through the thin muslin of my shift and felt the tickle grow into the most delightful kind of throb. It was a most extraordinary awakening of my senses.

"I watched them often after that through that same keyhole, Kate and the others for in that day my father had many fucking partners, until one day about three months later wondrous opportunity arrived. My father invited quite a few officers from his new command over to sup; among them was a midshipman named Tom. He was fair of face and caught my fancy immediately. Being only two years older than I, he did not follow the older men when they retired to the gentlemen's parlor for cigars and brandy.

"As you can well imagine, it did not take much convincing or, indeed, much exercise of my womanly wiles to lure him into the parlor I spent my evenings in. Thinking back on it now he was probably not very much more experienced than I; our kisses were fumbling, unskilled. He took his breeches down and suggested I suck upon his male serpent in order to harden it further. I did so and found the activity to be most pleasing to the both of us. He was still a boy but remember that I was still in fact a child as well and his pubescent member filled my small mouth quite perfectly. When he declared himself to be ready he laid me back on the sofa, lifted my skirts and, after fingering my feminine part and complimenting me on its beauty and even kissing it with his lips and tongue until I felt hot and eager and my belly was all a quiver, attempted to push himself into my virgin cunny--"

"Cora, your language," Horatio remonstrated. "Where did you learn such words?"

"Come now, Horatio, my father is a naval man," she said patiently. "He has never repeated them in front of me to be certain, but one can't help but over hearing such things. Now, if I may continue?" He nodded and she went on: "It was a struggle at first, his cock being so inflamed with ardor and my entrance being so small and tight. He urged me to heave my bottom up with light smacks upon the soft white cheeks of my rear as he pushed in with all his might. The poor boy, I'm afraid he was so excited that he spent almost immediately after managing to push the swollen head of his pego past my maidenly defenses. It hurt like the Devil but his flood of love elixir actually managed to alleviate the pain within my injured quim. He rested for a moment and then regained himself; I felt his small tool stiffen again and he began to plunge it into me, the coarse hair on his belly rubbing against my tender, childishly rounded one in the most pleasing manner! I can hardly even describe the sensation I felt and the both of us were so lost in our gratification we did not hear my father come in, wondering where we had gotten ourselves off to.

"He was furious!" she recalled with a wicked smile. "He pulled Tom off me, holding him by the collar of his jacket and shaking him violently; the poor boy's feet were dangling a good distance from the ground. I thought the lad was going to piss himself right then and there! My father's face was almost purple with rage as he spat out `I see you have the desire to become the oldest midshipman in His Britannic Majesty's service, Mr. Llewellyn!' And then he cast the young fellow out after a right good beating I should imagine and came back to me to pet my face and coddle me for he feared me wounded. I was, of course, horrendously punished for the whole affair but my father has always been soft hearted with me and two days later, showering me with paternal kisses, he told me all was forgiven and nothing more was ever said on the matter."

Horatio swallowed hard; just what he needed, to fall in love with the daughter of an overprotective father who was most likely his superior. "Oh dear," Cora said, her face falling as she studied his expression, "I've upset you now. I suppose I'll understand if you no longer want to court me."

Such a lewd, licentious tale she had just told that Horatio had gone white. And she had recited it all with a smile upon her face and with such great memory for detail he wondered how often she thought back on it. Never had he thought he would fall for a libertine so opposite was his own personality and so staunch his morals. But he could not deny his attraction to her, both mind and body, and despite his better judgment could not now just walk away from her as if nothing had passed between them. He took her chin in his hand and forced her to look him in the eye. "I am not upset with you, darling Cora," he said softly, though he did wonder what other lurid tales were hers to tell, "and no confession you have made here today has changed the fondness I feel towards you. My intentions remain the same." With a squeal of joy she threw her arms around his neck and bathed him with kisses, making him chuckle as he embraced her, slipping her gown back up to her shoulders and redoing the buttons at the back.

"I think I could quite possible fall in love with you, Mr. Hornblower," she smiled.

"Aye," he grinned, running the back of his finger along her cheekbone, "and I you, Miss Corisande."

Suddenly, a voice interrupted their affectionate exchange, a summons for Miss Corisande echoing through the glades. Cora called to the voice and over in the distance appeared one of the housemaids from Abberline Cross, huffing and puffing as if she'd run all the way from the manor. "Begging yer pardon, miss," she said as she approached, "but Lord Edrington has sent me out here to fetch you. Your father's just arrived and he's askin' fer ye, miss."

"Oh Horatio!" she cried in delight. "Isn't this wonderful?!"

'Oh yes,' thought Horatio glumly, 'simply wonderful.' Terrified at what he was about to face, he followed her back to Abberline somewhat reluctantly. Horatio Hornblower, hero of His Britannic Majesty's Navy, veteran of many a battle, was now about to face what was in his eyes one of his most difficult challenges: a potential father-in-law.

But nothing, **NOTHING** could have prepared him for who he met at the entrance to the manor house.


	5. Chapter 5

Servants were fussing about with luggage, running back and forth in a panic; as they had not been expecting an extra guest when a terrifyingly familiar voice boomed over the commotion, "Stop your fretting will ye?! I told ye I'm not staying, ye daft cows!" Horatio's blood ran cold and his stomach turned in knots; he knew that voice anywhere, its stern authority with more than just a hint of the thick Scottish burr it had once carried. Captain Roger "Dreadnought" Foster. But it couldn't be, it just couldn't. What would be the probability of such a coincidence; a hundred to one, a thousand to one? Still, Horatio had to face the cold hard facts like a slap to the face.

" **Daddy**!" Cora cried out throwing her arms around the Captain's neck and giving him a peck upon the cheek. In that one instant, Horatio felt the world below his feet crumble and fall away.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"Mr. Harnblower," the voice came booming to him with all its usual confidence and swagger. Horatio had managed to avoid the confrontation all afternoon but he had known that it was inevitability. The very fact that Dreadnought had actively sought him out in his quiet little corner of the gardens where he'd been hiding from the annoying social buzz of the party crowd caused Horatio worry. Even now as the older man strolled towards him, he could see no animosity in his grizzled features, no anger or ill will. Instead, the Captain looked somewhat amused. He was enjoying Horatio's discomfort! Oh why oh why couldn't it have been anyone else? Horatio stood quickly and saluted best he could under the circumstances but Dreadnought waved the formalities away, "At your ease, boy! Good Gad, I've come here to get away from that sort of thing!" With a prolonged and relieved grunt he took a seat on a nearby lawn-seat and stretched his legs out in front of him leisurely, crossing them at the ankle. "According to my daughter you have something to say to me, Commander."

"Sir," Horatio said with all the uncomfortable decorum of a suitor facing a prospective father-in-law and then some for he had a somewhat colored history with Captain Foster, whom he knew from experience to be quick to temper and brash. "I'd like to ask your permission, sir... Corisande is a very special girl... woman..."

"Out with it, man!" Dreadnought snapped impatient but playfully. He really was enjoying this! Horatio wondered how many other suitors he had frightened away with his imposing manner and vowed not to be among them.

"I wish to court Miss Corisande," Horatio blurted out.

"There you go; wasn't so hard now, was it?" Foster said with a smile. "You are aware that Lord Peter has already asked me for her hand?"

"Begging your pardon, sir," Horatio grew bolder, indignant at the Captain's malicious bit of fun with him and his precarious position, "but if I'm not mistaken, your daughter does not seem overly fond of Lord Peter's attentions."

"So I've noticed as well," Dreadnought grinned, "which is why I have refused him, on my Cora's behalf of course. My wife pushes for the union but it is ultimately Corisande's decision. Jenny says I indulge her overmuch but you see, Mr. Harnblower, I did not marry for money or title but for the noblest pursuit of all: love. I want to give my daughter that same chance at happiness. That said, she has spoken very highly to me of you. I know you to be an honest man and one of great valor and duty," he said this without sarcasm, "but I must be direct with you, Mr. Harnblower, I have no love for the idea of her marrying a naval man. She deserves better than the life of a missus to a seaman, and she certainly deserves better than the likes of you! She's better than the both of us; you remember that, boy! But," he let out a sigh, "seeing as she'd only pout and sulk until she got her way with me, as she always does, I seem to have no choice but to let this courtship run its course."

"Thank you for your honesty, sir," Horatio said rather tersely.

"Now I call upon yours, Harnblower," the man said gruffly. "Do you love my Corisande?"

"I do not know, sir," Horatio responded with the utmost sincerity, "for we have only just met a day ago. But I am very fond of her and I believe we have formed a devoted attachment, despite the small amount of time we have spent together. Those are my feelings of course and I cannot speak for Miss Corisande. I do believe there is a great probability of our affection for each other developing towards love, sir."

"Very well spoken," barked Foster. "A truthful lad; I suppose that's something! We are to leave for Valiant Close before night falls, Mr. Harnblower; my family and a few friends of ours. Cora would be much amiss if I did not invite you along as well. Well get going, man; pack your things! I won't be waiting for you when the time comes to leave!" Horatio saluted and took his leave.

When the boy was far enough away Dreadnought allowed himself a small chuckle. "Fine lad," he said to himself with a smile.


	6. Chapter 6

'Sinister Close indeed', Horatio thought as he glanced uneasily out the carriage window at the growing shape in the distance. He had to squint against the growing gloom of evening to see the darkened windows like eyes watching him from afar, its grand doorway standing open like a giant maw waiting to swallow them whole upon arrival. 'Cora was right', he thought, his mind unsettled by the sight of the castle as they approached, 'it is as if a dark shadow hangs upon it.'

Horatio cleared his throat and Edrington, whom he was sharing his carriage with, bolted up straight out of his silent reverie. Horatio nodded towards the window and his friend leaned forward so he could have a look as well, a look of unquiet on his face as he suddenly turned away with a 'tch' sound. He gently shook Frances awake, who had fallen asleep sometime ago against her husband's strong and comforting arm. She blinked, banishing the slumber from her eyes and she too grimaced when she saw their destination out the small windowpane.

The mood was somber as the luggage was taken from the carriages and the guests were led inside. Horatio was sore at the fact that he had not seen Cora all afternoon and only now was allowed a fleeting glimpse of her as she was whisked off to her chambers by her shrew of a stepmother, but he felt a warmth spread within him as his beautiful lady craned her delicate neck, searching him out and giving him a dazzling smile. She pursed her lips discreetly in a blowing kiss that told him: 'I want to be with you!' He returned her smile and was contented now to be ushered in the direction he was wanted in.

He was moved three times; he imagined until Dreadnought was satisfied that his sleep chambers were far enough away from Corisande's, and he passed on supper as he wasn't entirely sure he wanted to face the old curmudgeon so soon again. Instead, he settled into sleep and the uneasy dreams the manor brought. But soon even those gave way to delicious fantasies of exploring that appetizingly intimate wet warmth he had felt with his fingers between Cora's thighs earlier that day with his tongue and his eager cock. Before he knew it, it was morn anew and he found himself dressing anxiously, hoping to find Corisande in the breakfast room waiting for him as she had been at Abberline Cross.

Much to his disappointment, she was not there. Instead, he ate by himself, listening to the gossip of two elderly dowagers whom he determined to be friends of Lady Jane for he held Captain Foster, no matter the situation he found himself in with the man now, in higher respect than to associate with the snobbish likes of them.

"It happened again last night," the first said, her voice shrill in condescending displeasure. "Six months he was to sea and these supposed 'ghost voices' were silent; now he returns and they are once again active."

"Oh, Louisa," reprimanded the second, her voice so deep Horatio had to steal a glance just to ensure that it was in fact coming from a member of the female of the species, "surely you don't believe in such things as spirits. He's going mad, I tell you; it happens to the best of them. Why, I heard talk just the other day about that inquisition in Kingston. They're trying to cover it up but I heard that the well beloved Captain of that certain ship had become quite barking mad and the lieutenants had to act in the vessel's own interest and take command by force!"

Horatio bristled at the obvious reference to the events he had taken part in aboard the Renown.

"It goes with the lifestyle, I have heard some say," the woman concluded. "They just can't handle all the pressure as their year's increase."

"But," squeaked the first woman, "don't you find it at all odd that it is the apparition of the Captain's late wife that appears to him so soon after he has remarried?"

"Guilt, my dear Louisa," dismissed the second. "Demons of his own mind. And with that wretched daughter of his hanging about what else is to be expected?"

Horatio grip his fork tightened so that his fingernails cut half-moon marks in the flesh of his palm at the reference to Cora. Wretched? What did these biddies know of her? The only ones wretched here were the ones idle enough to laze about and gossip about people they obviously knew very little about. He had to screw his jaw shut to keep himself from turning and answering them thusly.

Still the woman continued, "They say that she is very much in the likeness of her mother; why else to bring her here then than to torment poor, dear Jenny? Can't imagine why she married the brute in the first place; he may be a hero of His Britannic Majesty's Navy but where is his breeding? Gallantry he has in spades but I ask you, who is his family? And that daughter of his. Eighteen and without even a proper suitor; it's shameful." Horatio grimaced; did that make him an improper one? "Captain Foster should just recognize the facts; she is not getting any younger and her free-spirited disposition has frightened away all potential suitors save for darling Lord Peter. And what a catch he would be! Why the Captain continues to deny him her hand I will never understand!"

"I've heard her mother was a seamstress, of all things!" the first woman added, excited to have something to add to the discussion.

Horatio could stomach no more of their nauseating prattle; he excused himself and left the room, his blood still up from the anger their talk of his Corisande had inspired. *His* Corisande? When had he begun thinking of her that way?

Suddenly, a small pair of hands grabbed him by the rough of his jacket and pulled him into a nearby closet. He found himself face to face with a deviously grinning Corisande. "What are you doing?" he laughed, as she drew the door shut behind him and pulled him up against her, deliberately pinning herself between him and the wall.

"Sneaking around," she answered mischievously, toying with the brass buttons upon his jacket. "I don't want to be with them either, Horatio; I want to be with you."

Standing up on her tip toes she kissed him on the mouth, arousing once more the passion in him. He responded, claiming her mouth with force. What was it about this woman? How did she make him abandon all sense and reason the moment he was in her presence? If this had been purely lust, it would have been so easy to walk away, just pack his bag and leave. But every time he even contemplated that course of action, he found himself firmly rooted to the spot unable to bear the idea of abandoning her to the vultures her stepmother associated with. The idea of Lord Peter eventually winning her and putting his hands anywhere on her sickened Horatio. Damn but love was a strange thing. Dear Archie would probably find his friend's predicament immensely humorous, if he were only there to see it: 'Fool you are, H'ratio; in love with Dreadnought Foster's daughter?' Shite, Dreadnought! The thought hit him like a mental bucket of cold water in the face. Suddenly, he withdrew his lips from hers, panting from the fervor of their kiss.

"What's the matter?" she frowned.

"Your father," he replied breathlessly.

Smiling, she cupped the burgeoning erection at the front of his breeches, rubbing it up and down provocatively with the palm of her hand. "This doesn't feel like you were thinking about my father," she teased.

Somehow, the thought that she knew what that was and what it meant he wanted to do to her only titillated him further and she felt him harden beneath her caress. She was surprised at first at how large it felt; her only encounter so far with touching one was with a boy of fourteen, hardly the grown man that Horatio was. And he seemed to be growing by the minute! A flush of arousal stained her cheeks. She had often heard Kate and the others compliment her father on his size and she supposed from the sight she had caught of his male member that it certainly seemed worthy of the praise. But all she knew about masculinity seemed to dissipate in a sweet sticky deluge between her thighs as she felt Horatio's powerful reaction to her rubbing. She shivered violently as he brushed his full lips against her cheek and nuzzled her hair. His large hands cupped her bottom and pulled her towards him, lifting her off the ground so the bulge of his steely cock could nestle demandingly in the soft yielding cradle of her pelvis. He rocked into her giving her an illicit taste of exactly what he wanted to do with his manly tool. Her stomach wrenched in a knot, desiring so to feel his hard length of flesh riding deeply inside of her belly.

He could take her right there, up against that wall; just pull up her skirts and ravish her as he dreamed of doing since the first night they met... was it only two days ago? It seemed like a lifetime ago. She was no delicate, swooning virgin; he would not hurt her. And yet he knew she deserved better; not some salacious encounter in a cupboard but on a bed right and proper. Was he not a gentleman? And she was a lady of the highest respect, despite her past indiscretions and how they shocked him so, no matter what those old bags in the breakfast room had said; to him she was a woman of the best quality. And what of her father; that was a question that must be considered as well; what would they do if they were caught? Surely Dreadnought would make sure that he not only never saw Cora again, but also that his career suffered a great deal for it as well. The line from Cora's tale came back to haunt him: 'I see you have the desire to become the oldest midshipman in His Britannic Majesty's service!'

"I--I can't, Cora," he murmured into the thick wavy curls of her hair, forcing himself to stop his thrusting motions.

"It certainly feels like you can," she replied playfully, wrapping her arms tightly around his neck and wriggling her hips against him as she planted a soft sucking kiss just below his jaw where she could feel his pulse resounding. She felt his large frame shudder.

"That's not what I meant," he said with a husky chuckle. Reluctantly, he set her back down on the floor and braced his arms against the wall on either side of her head, breathing as if he'd just fought a hundred battles.

"You can fuck me in the mouth if you find the alternative improper," she offered innocently. He frowned, bewildered by both her charming naiveté and her intriguing and complete lack of modesty.

"You shouldn't say such things," he reprimanded, though the words had sent a fresh jolt to his groin, making the tightening in his lower belly almost painful. His prick begged him to give in and have her but luckily, as in most situations he found himself in, his brain had dominion over his body. He tried to explain, "You're beautiful and spirited and lovely and I want you, I do. Making love to you would be one of the most sublime experiences of my life; but not here, not like this, not now. Your father..."

"Him again," she sighed, placing her palms against his chest and pushing playfully. She pouted and Horatio instantly understood why Foster gave into her every whim when she began to mope, so darling and heart rending was the gesture, "You worry more about what he will do to your career if we are discovered than you care to be with me."

"That's not true," he insisted, which was, in fact, a half truth. "Cora, listen," he stammered, "I am not an eloquent man, not in situations like these at least; I would rather run a Frog through than exchange romantic flourishes with a woman I was... fond of. I at least am practiced in the former," he laughed in a self-deprecating manner and was rewarded with a bright, understanding smile from Corisande. "I want to talk with you for I know there to be so much more behind those eyes of yours then those fools out there even suspect. There is much we can do together besides, well, besides this. I can... teach you whist." She laughed, wrapping her arms around his slender waist and kissing him upon the cheek.

"I would very much like to learn," she said gently. "Come, take me for a walk. I'll show you around the grounds," she grinned, squeezing him gently.


	7. Chapter 7

"When I was breaking fast, I overheard two guests speaking," Horatio began, his curiosity getting the better of him as he tried to keep his mind from wandering to other more dangerously seductive subjects; like how the sunlight glinted off of Corisande's hair streaking it with deep auburn, or how her skin seemed to glow with sensual excitement in the warm noonday air.

The grounds of Valiant should have been lovely; not to say that they weren't, but the same dark shadow that lingered about the house seemed to crawl into every darkness within every the shaded corner of the lawns and gardens. Much of the foliage was overgrown, adding to the haunting effect of the land, and always the gloom of the manor house seemed to fall on them, no matter how far they wandered from it.

But just the simple act of holding Cora's hand, of being with her, made him feel more alive than he had since Kingston. She set his soul aflame; something he had little experience with, he only knew when he felt it that he wanted it to last forever. There was even something so alike Archie about her sometimes, he mused to himself, her wit, her light teasing manner; those aspects of Archie's personality that always prevented him from taking himself too seriously he saw in her. "They said, as I recall, 'it happened again last night'. I was wondering..."

"The ghost," Corisande replied without missing a beat, not needing to hear the rest of his query to get the gist of it. The apparition was the talk of The Close nowadays; it seemed she couldn't have a conversation with even a chambermaid anymore without being interrogated about it. "It made itself known again last night, in my father's chambers. It much disconcerted him, which is why you have not seen him about today. He retired only to find that his clothes had been taken from the wardrobe and his wedding suit laid out almost lovingly upon the bed; he keeps his door locked when he is away from his quarters you see and only he holds the key. Then, later, he was awoken from his light sleep to see a ghoulish figure dressed in white roaming the room. He called out..." here her voice faltered, "he called out my mother's name and the thing disappeared into the blackness." She smiled sadly observing his dubious expression, leaning her cheek into the strong shoulder of the arm she had hers entwined with. She liked his strength, not just physical but emotionally; he was so stoic. She liked how she felt strong too when she was with him. "It's okay, Horatio, you don't have to believe me. No one else does; they all think my father's gone mad."

"But you don't?" he asked, placing his large hand upon hers reassuringly. The touch sent an oddly comforting thrill between them.

"I know my father too well," she replied. "I know he's brash sometimes, and impetuous often, but mad? I don't believe it of him! He hasn't always been the most responsible of parents, I know; I am more aware of his short comings than most others. But he has done his best. They say that guilt has driven him to it and, indeed, it was guilt that prevented him from marrying Kate; yes, the very same woman from the tale I told to you yesterday. I do believe he loved her but so beloved was his memory of my mother that he could not bring himself to be unfaithful to her, even in death. I was so pleased at first when he met Jenny; he was so smitten, so happy again. But once we moved here..." She turned her face away from him, staring off into the distance at nothing or maybe something that Horatio could not perceive. "I should not speak of such things so openly but I have already been so forthright with you." A light smile graced her lips for a moment as she squeezed his arm. "I do not believe that it is a good marriage, Horatio. Jenny has become so cold with him since we've come here; it makes my heart sad."

They came then across the old abbey that lay at the far side of the grounds. The only thing that remained of it was a small building, its large gray stones long ago began falling down and no attempt had ever been made to set them right again and so it had fallen into ruin. Corisande led him up the wildly overgrown and broken stone path and pushed open what was left of the crumbling wooden door. Grass and weeds had forced their way up through the floor and the small pews had long ago decayed and rotted into eternity, leaving only but a trace behind that they had been there at all. The stained glass windows were surprisingly untouched by the years and the sun trickled through them eerily, casting strange shapes dancing about the place. It was here that Horatio gazed upon Cora and realized how ethereal her beauty had become in his eyes, like a fairy or some sort of pagan spirit. How lovely she looked with the colors of the stained glass reflected in her glossy hair, how fetching her voluptuous body in her clinging white empire-waist dress against the darkness of the walls of the tiny church. But it was not lust that was inspired by these observations but a deep admiration and affection.

"This place is a great deal more ancient than the estate, the manor was built on this spot because of the decrepit cloister; it was supposed to be good luck. It turned out to be anything but. It's older than the Christians still," she whispered, though her voice still managed to echo peculiarly in the confined space. "They say that on this spot was sacred even before the Faithful came to these shores, before they built their place of worship here, that on this site once stood a great ring of standing stones; a doorway to the other-world." As he listened, Horatio wandered towards the far wall, his shoulder brushing against a tattered old tapestry thick with dust and age. A sudden chill ran up his spine as an unexpected blast of damp cool air blew upon the back of his neck. He quickly moved away. "Is it haunted, Horatio? Do you feel ghosts in here?"

"Have you ever seen a ghost?" Horatio asked playfully.

"Not seen," she corrected quite seriously, "heard. Oh Horatio, I've not told anyone this; you may well think me weak of mind and strong of imagination as most young girls are. On the nights when the spirit appears in my father's chambers, I hear voices; strange, hollow voices whisperings, moaning. They frighten me greatly sometimes but I can never discern exactly what they say. I heard them last night."

Horatio's practicality prevented him from believing in spooks and the like, but he could see by the way her face had gone ashen at speaking of it and her arms hugged her body comfortingly that she had genuinely heard something, ghost or not. He moved to draw her into the protective circle of his warm embrace but thought better of it. 'Good Gawd, think of her father; think of your career, man!' The thought went round and round in his head every time he contemplated touching her.

He couldn't help but feel as if the whole thing was some sort of cruel prank to drive Dreadnought and his daughter out; he knew they were not exactly well liked by Lady Jane's crowd. But could any of them really be as black hearted as this? "Come, I'm sure there is more to see. Let us leave this place," he suggested, admitting only to himself that the small building set him ill at ease. She nodded and they exited hand in hand, unaware of the set eyes that had been watching them from a break in one of the windows.

A short walk away from the church revealed the guest house. "Froderick and Lord Peter stay here," Corisande explained, anxious to keep moving as they tarried on the path that led to the cozy two story dwelling. "They are friends of Jenny's family, so I was told," she said with a dismissive shrug. "Froderick was here before we came, and Lord P. arrived shortly after and thus began his dogged pursuit of me," she sighed, taking Horatio's hand. "Let's move on."

At length they came upon a serene little lake; a short dock led out to the invitingly quaint white lattice work of a summer house. Corisande seemed to brighten considerably, now free from the shadows of the abbey and, indeed, it seemed to him as if they were far, far from the dreadful manor house and its dreary countenance. "This is my favorite place to come," Cora told him, standing at the center of the round gazebo as if she were Queen and Mistress of all the beauty around her. "It's so peaceful, so isolated." She beckoned him forward and he took her hand though was careful not to stray too close lest he should find the temptation to lose himself in her arms upon him again. "Why do you keep your distance?" she asked, observing his manner.

"I don't," he replied nervously, though his mind lept to with a thousand different replies, most including her father and his naval career. "I don't," he repeated, more reassuringly this time.

"Good," she said cheerfully, "then kiss me." A simple request by a lady to her suitor; just a kiss. After all, how much harm could one kiss cause? More than he could imagine for as soon as their lips met, he felt the flame of lust renewed within him. He drank of her lips fervently as the kiss deepened, his tongue claiming dominance over the warm velvet of her mouth. She could feel his male hardness pushing insistently against her tender belly through their clothes and knew that it wanted to bury its blushing head within her.

Dear Lawd, she was so damned sweet; her kisses were so intoxicating, her submission to his even more so. She moaned under the force and intensity of his kiss and he felt his cock leap, throbbing with need, begging him to take her; to find his own paradise within her moist garden. It would not be disrespectful, he tried to convince himself, for the lady had instigated it time and again; though the argument sounded unconvincing, even to him. No one would know; Cora herself had called the place isolated. They were as distant from the Close as a star, removed from everything; those appalling Ladies at the breakfast table, Lady Jane, Dreadnought... Oh good Gawd, her father! He would have his career as well as his head if he ever heard of him having sport with his daughter! He felt suddenly his raging erection go limp as a cooked string bean. He pulled away.

"What is it now?" Corisande asked, exasperated; still flushed and panting from their passionate exchange. She reached out, touching him intimately, and looked into his eyes, startled. "How did that happen. Just a moment ago..."

"Your father..."

"Oh, we're still singing that song, are we? You think entirely too much of my father when we are in this position," she teased. "I think it is not healthy." But he found no humor in the situation and when she tried once more to take him into her arms he backed away almost defensively. She looked at him, unpleasantly surprised and confused.

"I think it is time we were heading back," he said stiffly.

"Yes," she replied woundedly. "Yes, perhaps it is. Wouldn't want my father to worry." Without another word, they turned from each other and silently made their way back to Valiant Castle.


	8. Chapter 8

"Dreadful place," Edrington observed, handing Horatio a brandy. He leaned against the marble mantle of the nearby fireplace, the soft highlights of the firelight dancing in his tightly restrained golden hair and the powerful muscles in his legs rippling and shifting as he balanced his weight onto his well-shaped calves. He caught Frances' eye; she had apparently noticed the effect the movement had on his tight buttocks and athletic thighs through the clinging material of his closely fitted breeches. 'Later, love,' he thought to himself with a smile.

He surveyed the small group of guests that had gathered about the large entertaining parlor after supper. There were a few naval men present, lieutenants from the Dreadnought no doubt, but most were the same preening, pompous peacocks Lady Jane was so fond of keeping company with. Foster himself kept mostly to his own officers and Horatio wondered how the man even put up with the others; he might have been a windbag but he was a hero as well and someone Horatio still held in extremely high regard. "I don't know how he can stand it," the Earl continued as he noticed that his friend's gaze had fallen upon Foster. "For the love of Jenny, I suppose; though, just between the two of us, the woman strikes me as so frigid I wouldn't be at all surprised if she pisses snow!" The two men exchanged a chuckle and Edrington gave his companion a sly smirk. "I noticed you and Cora were gone for most of the day," he commented shrewdly, amused by the shade of scarlet Horatio's face had turned.

"Let's hope her father hasn't as keen a sense of observation as you," Hornblower glowered at him.

"Chin up, Horatio," Alexander laughed wryly, "the old man's bark is worse than his bite." Horatio scoffed. "Granted, I'm not the one absurd enough to court his daughter. I tell you, I dread the day when the time comes with my little ones; if their courtship is anything like mine and Frances' I've no idea how I'll survive it, or how their suitors will survive me," he grinned sardonically, taking a sip of his brandy. "Still, Foster seems to think well enough of you, and Corisande even better. Speaking of the lady," he motioned towards the giggling, overly joyful girl sitting at the table nearest them, unable to escape Lord Peter's attentions. Horatio was trying to ignore it; what had happened this afternoon had put a barrier of awkward feelings between them. Still, he couldn't stand the way the man's eyes traveled all over his Cora's body in the most lascivious fashion. He realized that Corisande's voice was getting considerably louder, her laughter slightly more uncontrolled as it began to rise above the steady din of the room. "Seems our Miss Foster has had a few too many. Perhaps it would be best if we were to conspire to remove her discreetly before anyone should notice her condition. Leave Lord Peter to me, you see to Cora; help her to her bedchambers or something," he said with a shrewd gleam in his dark eyes. "Advantageous for both of you, I should say; she will not embarrass herself and you shall get her alone. Come now, no objections; I've already got Peter's attention now is your chance, no one will see you go."

Horatio couldn't help but feel as if Edrington was scheming towards a different and much more devious end than merely assisting Corisande to evade drunken disgrace. He had no time to object, however, as Lord Peter had already left his seat and was conversing rather tersely with the Earl, annoyed at having been pulled away from Cora just when he'd gotten her trapped. "Come then," he whispered to Corisande, taking her arm firmly and tugging, coercing her to her feet as inconspicuously as he could, "I'm taking you out of here before you make a spectacle of yourself." He moved her easily and quickly, sweeping her out of the room with little resistance on her part. His large frame cautiously concealed her smaller one as they moved in the shadows; his heart began to beat rapidly as she leaned against him, surrendering all control of herself to him.

" _Mmmm, where are we goin'?_ " she asked somewhat dazedly, the suggestive smile on her face indicating that she had a pretty good idea as to where he wanted to take her.

"Show me to your bedchambers, Cora," he told her, trying to ignore the longing throb within his lower belly. "I won't trust you to get yourself there the state you're in."

Her smile widened. " _Are ya shure thath's why you want to ac--acomp'ny me there?_ "

"Cora!" he scolded and she relented, leading him up two flights of the main stair to the western wing and to her quarters. She pointed her doorway out to him but began dragging her feet so he had no choice but to take her into his arms and carry her inside. After kicking the door open, he unceremoniously dumped her on the bed and returned to the doorway, peering up and down the long, dark, medieval hallway to make certain they had not been seen before shutting the portal soundly behind him.

" _You're sthill here,_ " she teased in a sing song manner with a giggle as she tilted her head back to look him in the eye from where she lay on her back on the rumpled coverlet. The position afforded him quite a provocative view of the heaving swell of her décolletage and the tightening in his groin grew to a distinct ache.

He moved around the bed to where her legs hung over the side and, kneeling between her seductively spread knees, began removing her shoes, letting his fingers roam over the smooth silk of her stockinged calves. "You are in no condition to help yourself," he murmured, taking her ankles in his solid grip and moving them so she now lay fully on the bed. He moved away, no longer trusting himself or his now trembling hands.

"Horatio," she said, her voice going suddenly serious, "I have a confession to make." She looked at him, he wasn't moving towards her or nor away. She sat up, heaving a great sigh. "I'm not really tipsy; I only pretended to get your attention." She waited a moment for her words to sink in before asking, "Are you terribly angry?"

"Terribly angry?!" he raised his voice angrily, his brow furrowing crossly. Oh dear; this wasn't exactly the reaction she had been hoping for. " **Dammit, Cora, this is not a game!** Did you put Lord Edrington up to this? Good Gawd, you've the Devil in you! Did you even consider what it would do to my career if we were to be discovered; what your father would do?! Selfish, selfish girl!"

"Well if you don't stop shouting we will be, won't we?" she yelled back. "Well, go then! Leave before my father finds us out and ruins your precious career! I'm obviously not worth it!" Horatio sighed, hanging his head in defeat. Guilt washed over him, mostly because it was true; he was worried about the black name that Dreadnought would surely set upon him and his career if they were caught. "Go! I don't want you here anymore! You're wretched, and it's obvious you don't care for me at all! I hate you!" She began to sob, turning away from him. He stood there helpless, knowing he should leave but the sight of her distress anchored his heart to the spot. "I didn't mean that," she said quietly, wiping the glittering tears that fell upon her flushed cheeks. "I was behaving like a child." He sat upon the edge of the bed, and snaking a long arm around her waist, pulled her to him.

"No, I deserved that," he admitted ruefully as she buried her face into his shoulder, the itchy wool of his coat tickling and thrilling her. He turned his head and inhaled the sweet scent of her glossy curls as they brushed his nose and chin like strands of silk against his tanned and weather beaten skin. He began kissing her soft tresses, nuzzling into the satin locks until he found her ear. His lips grazed the sensitive shell, his breath hot and inviting. He felt a shiver run through her. Control was retreating once again, leaving him awash in lascivious intent. She sighed and draped her arm around his neck, encouraging him to lower his head to her shoulder, placing delightful sucking kisses across the luscious flesh of her curved neck.

Before he was even aware of what he was doing, his slender fingers had begun work on the buttons at the back of her gown; tugging, yanking, until they gave way and he was able to slip the dark blue silk part way down her shoulder. His mouth followed hotly, tasting, supping at the skin. Her sighs of ecstasy urged him on; so light, so delicate to his ear. "Oh Gawd, Horatio," she moaned, "I want you so badly. I feel like I'm burning inside!" He smelled so nice, a delicious aroma of brandy and masculinity, and she was feeling ever so randy thinking of all the delightful things they could do together. She wanted to see him, touch him, and taste him. His lips branded her flesh wherever their hot stroke landed, sending waves of exhilaration and rapture throughout her quivering body.

Without warning, a small knock against her bedchamber door drew them out of their lustful abandon. "Miss Corisande," a small female voice came from the other side of the portal, "I've come to see if there's anything you needed before turning in, miss."

"Oh, balls!" Cora, panicked, cursed quietly. "Just a minute," she called out and then, in a hushed but strained whisper, told Horatio, "It's Trudy, the upstairs maid! You've got to hide!" She shuffled off the bed and grabbed him by the wrists, throwing him behind her dressing screen and ordering him to be still. Confusion and alarm made him obey without a second thought. "Come," Corisande called out finally when she satisfied that everything was in order and well concealed.

The door opened and Trudy entered timidly. Horatio could just barely see her through a joint in the screen as she bowed to her mistress. In her mid-thirties, he guessed; handsome if not overly attractive, her mousy blonde hair tied back into a loose bun under a muslin cap and the disheveled state of her uniform did not detract from the glow of her tanned skin or the sharpness of her hazel eyes. "Pardon me, miss," she said softly but warmly and Horatio could tell that there was something behind her eyes, something behind her manner; it was familiar, friendly yet oddly suspect though he sensed no maliciousness from her. "I heard you were in and was wondering if there was anything you'll be needing for the night?"

"N-no, thank you, Trudy," Cora said, struggling to get her dress back up her shoulder. "I was just... undressing." She would surely have boxed his ear if she had seen the grin on Horatio's face as she made that affectedly nonchalant statement. "I take it then my father has given you the night off?"

"Aye, miss," Trudy replied somewhat nervously. Horatio sensed a suspicious shift in the woman's demeanor; she was hiding something from Cora. "If you'll not be requiring anything then..."

"No!" Corisande said quickly. "No, that's fine thank you. Goodnight."

Trudy said her goodnights and excused herself, and Horatio breathed a loud sigh as he heard the door click shut. Cora slumped down upon the bed in relief as he came around the corner of the screen; her gown sagging down her shoulder in the most endearingly dejected way. "You should go now before you really are caught," she uttered dejectedly. "If you take the staff stairwell you run little chance of being seen; Trudy will be long gone by now, off to her chamber to change and then out the close that runs from the servants' quarters to the main road." She didn't raise her head to watch him go but he could feel her eyes on him as he walked towards the door. He reached for the doorknob, his fingertips brushing the cold brass as they moved past it and up to the lock. It was time to make his choice, for better or for worse. Could he risk the promise of a bright career for this, for her? He was standing at a crossroads and both paths had the probability of leading to ruin. He knew there was a possibility that he was about to make the worst decision of his life and it scared the hell out of him. What to do... what to do? He asked himself as the battle raged on within him.


	9. Chapter 9

It was time to make his choice, for better or for worse. Could he risk the promise of a bright career for this, for her? He was standing at a crossroads and both paths had the probability of leading to ruin. He knew there was a possibility that he was about to make the worst decision of his life and it scared the hell out of him. What to do... what to do? He asked himself as the battle raged on within him. 'What about your career?' the ever-present angel on his shoulder reminded him.

Taking a deep breath, his hand returned to the knob and turned. The door gave way silently and he slipped outside, consciously resisting the urge to glance back at her. She gave no sound to stop him but he could feel her wounded glare at his back, the tears beginning to well in her lovely eyes. He shut the portal behind him, the thick wood of the door creating a solid barrier between them, possibly forever.

That's how it played out in his head but as he stood there rooted to the spot, his hand poised on the lock, he realized that that course of action was now impossible. He cared too deeply for her now; there could be no turning back. What about his career? 'Career be damned... oh, what the hell! Fuck my career!' he replied to it, the devil upon his other shoulder cackling in glee and licking his chops in lecherous anticipation. The loud click of the turning of the bolt resonated through the silence of the room and brought Corisande's surprised gaze to his; the deep brown pools of his eyes were lit with yearning like lanterns set adrift on the waters of the lake on a midsummer's eve.

"You wicked, wicked man!" she laughed, her shock subsiding as he stalked back over to where she sat, taking her wrists in his grasp and pulling her roughly to her feet. Their mouths met instantly as his hands gripped her dress at the back and yanked until the rest of the buttons gave way. The silk slid from her body easily, puddling at her ankles and leaving her covered only by the flimsy cotton of her camisole. He drank in hungrily the sight of her body through the nearly see-through material of her shift; admiring her curves, the appetizing shadows of her nipples, and the black of the inviting patch of hair between her legs. "What are you doing?" she asked breathlessly as he nuzzled and kissed her neck, his large hands cupping the weight of her breasts and working their rosy little buds into taut peaks with demanding strokes of his thumbs.

"Tell me what you want me to do to you," he said huskily, his hot breath on her skin causing it to erupt in goose flesh. The thrill of nearly being caught was upon him, running through his veins like fire.

"Fuck me," she answered, rubbing herself up against him. He found himself exhilarated by her lewd words, wanting to hear more.

He cupped her womanhood through the thin fabric of her chemise causing her to gasp violently as he rubbed lustily, feeling the wetness that had begun to gather there. His fingers played with her slit through her shift, occasionally the tips would penetrate the pouting chink, teasing her tender flesh with the heat of his touch and the roughness of the cotton of her camisole; she blissfully remembered the field back at Abberline Cross and exactly what he could and wanted to do with those wonderfully long talented fingers of his. "Here?"

"Yes," she sighed euphorically, wrapping her arms around his neck helplessly. She felt his fists bunching the cloth of her under dress, working it up above her knees, over her thighs, to her waist. She expected him to take her right then and there like that, but he did not. Instead he pulled the shift up over her head, exposing her fully to him. A flush of embarrassment crept up across her cheeks; she'd never been in the all together in front of a man before, well, not in a sexual capacity. What if he did not like what he saw? Her skin was far from flawless and she was conscious of her body's buxom shape. Horatio's gaze though held nothing but admiration and desire as he looked upon her, his groin pulling deliciously as his cock grew ever the more rigid in affection for what he saw before him. Her breath caught as he knelt before her and began to very slowly remove her garters and stockings, rolling the fine silk down her shapely leg with relish, planting luscious kisses against her exposed knees.

Gently, he forced her back down onto the bed but did not follow. Rather, he began shedding his clothes as she watched with an eager stare; he kicked off his shoes first, then cast off his jacket, letting it fall to the floor. Next came his neck tie and waistcoat, every layer lost bringing her closer to beholding what she imagined to be his heavenly physique for the first time. She was not disappointed as he caught hold of the back of his shirt and hauled it up over his head. His chest was lean but muscular, smooth and tanned with hard enticing cinnamon colored nubs for nipples. As the next course he offered up his stockings, revealing to her his slender but shapely hair covered ankles and calves. As his hands went for the fastenings of his trousers, she felt her heartbeat quicken considerably; now for the main entree.

His nimble fingers made quick work of the buttons and laces, and he slipped his breeches down his slim hips letting them pool at his feet. He stepped out of them and moved towards the bed gracefully, his sinew rippling beneath his skin like liquid. Her heart caught in her throat; he truly was magnificent. A thin line of coarse dark hair trickled down his flat athletic belly to the dense nest at his crotch. There the most extraordinary specimen of maleness stood, its skin stretched to its fullest length, which was most impressive, hard and smooth like marble with a swollen and enthusiastic crown as large and as red as a ruby. Like the rest of him, it was slender but exceptionally long and the thought of its burgeoning head tickling the entrance to her womb made her body thrill and tremble in ecstasy and expectation.

Finally, he joined her on the mattress, laying his body on top of hers; both of them relishing the feel of their nakedness against the other's. The firm throbbing shaft of his erect prick pressed demandingly against her thigh, his lips were on hers immediately, his tongue ravaging her mouth voraciously. He pulled the pins from her hair, letting it fall about them in a curtain of wavy tresses, running his hands through it in appreciation. He ran his kisses down to her breasts, tasting and suckling the lovely rosy buds at their tip until she felt her toes begin to twitter; and like a current, the blood rushed from her head to her womb and her sex. She was extremely vocal about the pleasure he was giving her; he liked that, it made him bolder in his actions.

He sprinkled his kisses down her belly, his mouth eager at the thought of feasting upon her. She parted her legs for him and he rested between her thighs, his mouth and full passion swollen lips just barely grazing the pouting vermilion notch, breathing in her scent and her flavor. Cora could hardly ever have imagined anything so wicked nor so immensely satisfying or pleasurable as the feel of his hot thick tongue as it pushed its way inside her creamy folds, finding the firm little morsel hiding within, lapping and sucking at it with abandon, his lips smacking loudly against her soft lust-drenched flesh as he ate away at her. She could hear every sound of pleasure he made; his low deep moaning vibrating against her sensitive skin and tickling her to her very core, letting her know he was enjoying the activity as much as she; his tongue and lips as they greedily and noisily slurped her up; the sound of his gulping and swallowing as he drank down her ambrosia. Her cries now became profoundly ecstatic as she grasped at the great oaken headboard in an attempt to anchor herself to something solid as the world fell away from her, and arched her back in an effort to offer up more of herself to him to devour, moving her legs so they draped over his muscular shoulders. She was repeating his name fervently again and again; like a prayer, like the most luscious sound ever spoken. She was no longer aware of anything around her except for the feel and heat of his mouth. She wanted to find the words to tell him everything; how she felt for him, how he was making her feel but found that she could not form words, only sounds of intense delight and gratification.

At last, he sent his long broad tongue drilling into her innermost recess, feeling the slippery walls of her well contract and suck at him as they had his finger the last he explored her sensual mysteries. Rhapsody shot through her veins; she'd never experienced this kind of bliss before in her life. Her womb tensed most delightfully and warmth spread throughout her as heaven became a tangible thing to her, as if she could reach out and touch its paradise, to pull it into her breast. She felt her soul rush from her in a heated flood between her legs and she felt Horatio consume all she offered, supping up her feminine nectar while swirling his tongue around her stiff clitoris.

He felt her tremble and writhe beneath him, luxuriating in the power that he had over her. "You amaze me," he told her, moving up her body again and resting his head on the pillow beside hers, licking her pearly essence from his lips and chin, and draping an arm around her waist in a devoted embrace.

She managed a breathless laugh, her enraptured panting abating somewhat. "You make me--," she was cut short by the heavy burning press of his lips against her own. She wanted to put her hands everywhere on him, wanted to feel every last delectable bit of him. Her fingers grazed his shoulders, then his chest moving ever downwards to his flat stomach where his muscles jumped in excitement at her small caress. He growled, a feral sort of sound, as she finally took his cock in her hands, rubbing her thumb across the surprisingly smooth tip as she explored the wicked length of the shaft. Without conscious thought, he began bucking and grinding against her pleasing touch, her small hands fondling his sensitive flesh until he felt every stroke bursting through him like breakers against the shore. He was already excited to a feverish pitch and she was sending him straight over the edge. Restraint abandoned him completely under the wonders of her soft caress, the tension in his pelvis building until he could hold back no longer. Burying his face in her hair, he gave one last deep groan as the floodgates opened and he spurted into her hands. Shaking violently, he held onto her tightly as eruption after eruption spilled from him. He kissed her gratefully, admiring her beauty and deciding that none should ever rival it in his heart, before rolling onto his back, his chest heaving strongly. She snuggled into him and he wrapped his arms firmly about her, resolving never to let go. "Not thinking of my father now, are you?" she teased.

He cupped her face in his hand and tilted it upwards so he could look her in the eye. "Love you," he said huskily.

"Do you, Horatio?" she asked, the words making her heart thunder in her chest. "Do you truly?" He did not answer; he only drew her nearer so he could place a loving kiss upon her enthusiastic mouth. Giving him a mischievous smile, she moved her mouth down to his chest where she allowed her tongue to play his the taut knobs of his nipples; licking, sucking, tickling. She moved further still to the flat plane of his stomach, kissing his belly, delighting in the feel of his muscles contracting blissfully beneath the gentle brushes of her lips. "Let's see if we can make him hard again, eh?" she said, her voice barely more than a whisper as she handled his now relaxed manhood. Before he could answer, he felt the tantalizing graze of her hot breath against the tender cap of his resting rod. A guttural cry escaped his throat as he felt her mouth engulf him, inch by inch swallowing him.

The scent of his arousal filled her nostrils, the taste of his salty skin, and like the sea air he tasted, making her head spin euphorically as her lips closed around his member, sucking delicately. Unlike Cora's wild vocalizations, Horatio was all but silent in his pleasure; but she could hear his breath increase and feel the throbbing skin of his cock stretch and expand within the warm confines of her mouth until he was again fully erect and he would no longer fit. She concentrated on the head then, swirling her tongue around the ridge at the base of the engorged crown and suckling with abandon as her fist frigged his lengthening shaft and tenderly fondled the weighted velvety sac that held his two firm stones. He was remarkable, like steel clothed in hot wet velvet. She moved her mouth up and down on him, taking in as much as she could before drawing him out and beginning the process again. Horatio thought he would go mad. He, of course, had experienced oral gratification before but it had never felt so phenomenal as the play of her inexpert lips on his burgeoning manhood. He realized through the wondrous haze of his exhilaration that, for the first, it was not merely physical satisfaction of his carnal needs he desired; he wanted her, he wanted Corisande. *His* Corisande, for after taking her he would never be contented with another. Blast, what was she doing to him? Why was he feeling all these delicious new sensations? Love, that's what it was; it had to be. And Foster be damned, he meant to have her; even if he had to go through the old fart to do so. Once that lower head took over, the upper one shut down completely.

She was bringing him to crisis quicker than he had expected, having spent himself completely only minutes before. But she was magic, she was the woman he loved. He felt the same delightful pulling in his lower belly, notifying him that climax was near at hand. As enjoyable as her mouth was he wanted more, he wanted to be inside of her when he came. Tearing her away from him, he threw her on her back and mounted her, thrusting, plunging in to the very roots of his affair; the coarse hair of their mounds intermingling. She screamed, a joyful sound, as physical sensation and heartfelt emotion collided for them both. He was buried so deep inside of her; she could feel his swollen head nestling demandingly in her belly. He could feel her gloriously tight sheath contract and pulsate around him hungrily, very pleased at having been fed such a luscious tidbit. After a moment of savoring the astonishing feel of her in stillness, spurred on by her ecstatic wordless pleas and urgings he began to move, driving his cock into her with such savage force it betrayed the tenderness of the kisses he was bestowing upon her lovely lips. Pleasure so intense it bordered on agony washed over them both as they clung to each other and heaved against each other enthusiastically. Her muscles squeezed and nipped at the head of his prick, driving all thought from his brain save for reaching blissful fulfillment within her soft walls.

Cora could do nothing but moan and yell out her pleasure at Horatio's fierce assault. She raised her knees beneath his arms and hooking her legs across his back, inviting him yet further in. His soft kisses covered her mouth while his pego drove into her again and again with an insatiable hunger, ravishing her thoroughly body and soul. He held onto her strongly as he felt the first ripples of her crisis come upon her, his cock now sliding easily in and out, swimming noisily in a sea of her honeyed lubricity. He reached between their bodies and found the little quivering bundle of nerves within the hood of her cunny, rubbing insistently as he continued to ram into her, assuring that she would feel the most pleasure from him that man was capable of giving and woman receiving. Fireworks ignited along her spine, running from her sex to her brain until all of her was alight like a candle with a tingling warmth and rapturous consummation. He followed, pushed to the heights of heaven by her joyous climax; he burrowed the eager head of his serpent into the deepest part of her and drenched her inmost vitals with flood after flood of his seed. He pushed on last time and collapsed onto her; spent, contented. He pulled the blankets up about their bodies and wrapped her in his arms, whispering "I love you" in her ear over and over while showering her with kisses as delicate and sweet as rose petals until warm, exhausted sleep consumed them both.


	10. Chapter 10

Horatio observed Corisande's body was soft, round as he explored it with his hands beneath the coverlet. There was naught a sharp angle to her, only glorious delectable curves. He cuddled her almost absent mindedly as he listened to the sounds of the winds and the pounding rain of the thunderous storm that had arisen about an hour ago. The storm that had raged within himself since he had met Cora finally calmed as he basked in its soothing afterglow. She giggled airily and shifted slightly, snuggling her face into the crook of his arm where her head lay. "I didn't mean to wake you," he whispered.

"You didn't," she smiled, luxuriating in his warmth and strong embrace. She had no idea how long she'd been awake simply delighting in his presence and his gentle caress. The important thing was that he was here with her and he was making no movement to leave. She felt the tender brush of his luscious lips against her heated skin behind her ear, down her neck, across her bared shoulder. His hot, excited breath gave her gooseflesh as he thrilled her with succulent kisses, holding her tightly to him as if he'd never let go.

"Tell me, my lady," he said huskily, she could feel the graze of his smile against the delicate shell of her ear, "do you always get your way?"

"Of course!" she grinned, turning in his arms so she now faced him. "I'm a Foster, aren't I?"

"Yes, you are," he replied with a smile, "through and through, there's no doubt about it!" He kissed the tip of her nose. "And I love you in spite of it," he teased. He moved his mouth to hers and kissed her deeply, worshipfully, nibbling and sucking upon her bottom lip as if she were a treat that he could just not get enough of. "Certainly you are the more attractive of the two Fosters I know."

"No regrets then?"

"None," he confirmed, kissing her upon the forehead. "I've found myself in sticky situations with your father in the past; I've handled it before and I can again. And you're worth it. You're worth one hundred of them, Cora; never forget that."

"So are you, Horatio Hornblower; I know you do not believe it but it is true," she replied, kissing him softly. "You know, you were my true first, Horatio; you were the first one I've ever loved." Her statement shook him to the fiercely secret chambers of his heart; the sincerity in her simple declaration was the most earth shatteringly profound thing that had ever reached his ears. He kissed her again; harder and deeper this time as, with gentle pressure, he pulled her tongue between his luscious lips and sucked ravenously. She moaned gratefully, her lips upturning in a smile against the passionate press of his. He lowered his mouth to her neck, then her collarbone, laving each delicious bared section of flesh with his large questing tongue and sensuous lips. Glancing up at her, his eyes were dark lascivious wickedness itself as he pulled the coverlet up over his head and settled his mouth against her belly, tickling her with tantalizing kisses. She giggled, wriggling about delightedly as his mouth found the places his fingers had been exploring as she slept.

Suddenly she went still, her body going tense and rigid. He stopped his game instantly and, throwing back the covers, found her now pallid face turned towards the far corner of the room in worry. "What?" he asked, frowning. "Love, what is..." She put her fingers to his lips to silence him and told him to listen. Furrowing his brow, he concentrated until he heard it too: a soft, oddly resonate whispering seemingly coming from the walls themselves. Corisande clung to him in fear, thankful that she was not alone for the voices unnerved her so. Petting her hair comfortingly and giving her one last kiss, Horatio slid from the bed and slipped on his breeches, which lay carelessly on the floor where he had left them urgent in his desire.

"Horatio, don't!" Cora squealed nervously, sitting up and pulling the coverlet up about her protectively. She watched him uneasily as he moved to the corner where the voices seemed loudest, examining the walls and the heavy oaken bookshelves that lay in that part of the room, tipping his ear against the varying surfaces occasionally. He stopped, his ear fixed to a bookcase. "What is it?" she whispered hoarsely.

"Darling, bring a candle over here," he instructed her and, despite her apprehension, she did as she was told without question; that's how much she trusted him, how much she loved him. He was feeling around the edges of the bookcase with his fingers as she threw on her camisole and approached with the light. She looked to him curiously. "Cora, you mentioned that the servants have a close running from their quarters to the main road, yes?" Corisande nodded. "Tell me, does it run above ground or is there a walled in passage."

"Well, I never thought to ask," she responded earnestly, inquisitiveness getting the better of her fright. "Some of it is below ground, I think. Why?"

"Is it not possible that there are more underground passages about the castle; hidden ones perhaps?" he said as he began to pull at the polished wood of the bookshelf. Corisande just stared at him, realization of what he was intimating dawning on her. It was possible; as a matter of fact she supposed it was downright likely. An old castle like this one always held secrets; why not a system of hidden passageways? With a reluctant groan the bookcase gave way, opening inwards on hidden hinges like a door. Judging from the difficulty he had in opening it, Horatio guessed that the mysteriously disguised opening had not been used in some time, which eased his nerves him greatly. Who ever was using the passageways probably did not know this particular doorway existed or was not interested, which meant that Cora was safe... for the time being. He wanted to keep it that way. He ordered her to retrieve one of her garters, which she once again did without question, and he pulled the door shut behind them, marking its seam with the light blue scrap of fabric she had handed him. He was sure that anyone passing by would not notice it unless they were looking for it; as they would be upon returning. He had also just entombed them in the dismal gloom of the tunnel.

A narrow dark path opened before them and the whispering became louder and more distinct, echoing off the ancient gray stones and fading into the ominous shadows. Horatio stepped inside, taking the candle from Cora and tilting it first to the right then left to examine their options. Both ways seemed to go on forever in blackness but the voices seemed to be coming from the passage to his left. With instincts well honed in battle and without a second thought that was the way he chose. Corisande clasped her arms around his waist, burrowing into him as tightly as she could. He put an arm around her shoulders and squeezed reassuringly, giving her a comforting smile.

They moved together slowly, the darkness swallowing the dim light of the candle beyond their protective little circle as if shadows had dominion there. A cool damp breeze permeated the passageway, chilling them to the bone and making Horatio wish he had had the foresight to dress more thoroughly than he had. He felt Cora shiver also and held her more tightly to him. The moist breeze, as well as the soft howling of the wind heard within the passage, reminded Horatio of the storm raging across the grounds of the Close and reinforced his belief that the tunnel must have an exit to the outside world somewhere. The stone of the floor and walls was cold and slimy against their bare feet.

Cora began to grow bolder, still holding Horatio's hand in her firm grip, but now she ventured outwards, grazing her fingers across the wall, searching boldly for other doorways or clues. "Ow!" she exclaimed suddenly, drawing towards him again and holding her hand to her as if it were wounded. "My finger caught on something!"

"Let me see, sweet," he said softly taking her hand in his and kissing away the thin line of blood that had began to form on her index finger. "Just a little scratch," he smiled, unable to resist brushing his lips against the soft skin a few more times. "Now, show me where." She pointed the spot out and Horatio, holding the candle to it fastly, investigated it. It was not another doorway but a latch of some kind; perhaps a peephole. Well, only one way to find out, he mused... Setting the candle upon the floor, he pulled back the bolt and a small square about eye level and a little larger than a playing card swung open. Light flickered from the opening as Horatio peered in, noticing that the back of the cavity was canvas breached only by two diamond shaped holes. Eyeholes, he guessed, cut inconspicuously into a painting; for what insidious purpose he dared not venture a theory.

He found himself gazing into one of the splendid guest apartments. From the motif of the chamber he presumed that this would be the 'green room'; the temporary residence of Lord and Lady Edrington. He did not need to presume for too long for into his line of sight came suddenly the Earl and his wife. Frances' flighty laughter reached him as Alexander carried her, her legs wrapped around his waist, to a plush reclining chair and laid her down, covering her body with his own as he pressed fervent kisses against her mouth. Horatio _knew_ he should not watch, that he should turn away immediately, close the little hatch and move on as was only proper but the salaciously decadent scene that was unfolding before him intrigued him too deeply. Perhaps he was just feeling exceedingly randy after his own acts of love performed with his beloved, but the excitement of watching flooded him with an aroused sort of thrill. Before his eyes, Edrington parted his wife's legs as he pushed her wrap above her waist, and Horatio's gaze were instantly drawn to that sweet nest of alluring strawberry curls betwixt her voluptuous thighs. He imagined himself in Alexander's place, burrowing his head into her, pushing his tongue into the juicy folds beyond the tempting lips of her feminine mystery. He watched as the Earl gamahuched his Lady lustily; the sounds of Frances' pleasure causing a distinct and wondrous throbbing within Horatio's breeches. He wondered if his friend was enjoying his love as much as he had Corisande; if the taste of her nectar and the feel of her hot wet niche was driving him to the verge of sexual frenzy as his exquisite Cora's had. Edrington inserted a probing finger as he continued his oral ministrations and the look on Frances' face was that of sheer bliss. Horatio licked his lips unconsciously, imagining the deluge of sticky essence flooding from her, drenching Alexander's tongue, lips, and chin.

"What is it, Horatio?" Cora whispered, pushing him aside so she could have a look see. She had to cover her mouth with her hand to keep from giggling when she beheld the sight Horatio had been studying so intently. "Well, well, well," she snickered as quietly as she could, "look who's having their sport now!"

"You're a very wicked girl, you know that?" Horatio grinned, his hot breath tantalizing her neck, making her shiver as he pushed up against her back.

"And aren't you the luckier for it," she reminded him. "Tch, typical man; if you're not thinking with one head, it's the other! Do you reckon she's prettier than me, Horatio?" she asked coyly. "Would you like to fuck her?"

"Never," he murmured, nuzzling his thick lips against her jaw. His hands skirted along the hills and valleys of her body through the thin fabric of her chemise, delighting in the feel of every softly rounded curve; it had suddenly become very warm if not downright hot in that tunnel. "There is but one I want, and there is no one so beautiful in my eyes as she," he said huskily. They both watched as Edrington wrapped his wife's legs around his waist and, pulling up his nightshirt, exposing to their view his fine physique and impressively thick if not overly long prick standing proudly from the mat of honey golden curls adorning his groin. He plunged the solidly erect shaft into her trembling quim, the sinew of his muscular backside and thighs rippled most pleasingly as he drove his eager stallion into her mercilessly, pulling out to the swollen head before renewing the attack; his great girth stretching and filling her ravenous orifice to the fullest.

Horatio's ardor now rose to feverish levels, he lifted Cora's shift in the back and inserted his hand between her legs, his long fingers playing with her dampened cleft. She started and almost squealed in surprise at the intimate touch and would have had Horatio not clamped his other hand over her mouth, whispering in her ear, "Shhhhh, my darling. Don't want to give them a fright, do we?" He parted the bedewed petals of her rose and moved inside, two of his slender fingers plunging into her tight silken husk desperately, thrilling at the way her moans vibrated against the hand still secured around her mouth. She was so deliciously hot, so delectably wet as he plumbed her core; her wriggling and writhing igniting a wildfire of lust within him. He removed his fingers and sucked her honeyed emission from them. His breeches hung loose around his lean waist and he did not have to struggle with them long to free his rampant cock. He took her hips in his hands and adjusted them so that her beautiful rounded bottom jutted out, most delightfully resting against his belly, as the purpling helmet of his rod found within her throbbing lips the place to enter.

Cora cried out wildly, his hand muffling her shout of ecstasy, as she bucked and ground her full backside against him as his prick penetrated her fully, filling her belly with its pulsating warmth. He pushed back, thrusting in and retreating to the bulging head again and again with animalistic fervor. It was neither the time nor the place for such behavior and they both knew it, but it comforted the both of them greatly, to feel the loving sweetness of the other's intimate embrace, that they could not help themselves. The tunnel was so dire, so frightful around them that they needed this, they needed a break in the tension, they needed to feel their lover's devoted yet sensual caress and the spectacle involving the Edringtons had only served to stimulate them to the fullest of their libidinous desires.

Horatio grunted as he shoved his excited tool into her repeatedly, the generous flow of her womanly juices making it a smooth and pleasurable ride. They watched as Alexander renewed his pego's furious charge again and again, lunging into her to the roots as he head rolled back on the cushions a look that bordered on painful rapture crossing Frances' delicate features. Edrington touched his wife lovingly, adoringly as he performed they performed their sweet but frenzied dance. Tugging at the ties to her wrap desperately he released the fabric, exposing the pleasing full round globes of her breasts and their inviting rosy peaks to his touch and taste. Horatio bit back a groan, taking Cora's breasts in his eager grasp, kneading somewhat roughly, feeling the divinely tantalizing nipples of hers pebble against his caress through her shift. He could not deny the beauty of Frances' creamy bosom or her lovely rosy little nipples, but none could compare to Corisande's ample bust to him. Edrington lowered his head and captured one of his wife's delicious hardened nubs between his lips, licking, pulling, kissing with his mouth before settling it against her flesh and suckling her fiercely, her fingers tangling in his golden curls, holding him firmly to her.

Just as Frances let out a keening cry of fulfillment, Horatio reached his breaking point and, with a violent shove, spent a torrent of hot seed into her womb. Corisande followed, clawing at the wall as her crisis slammed into her, mingling her creamy outpouring with his thick cum as it ran down both their thighs and drenched the heavy sac of Horatio's pendulant stones. They leaned into each other for support until they had recovered themselves at which time Cora turned to him and kissed his luscious mouth. He returned her kiss with unrivaled tenderness, petting her hair softly as he looked upon her adoringly. They stole one last glimpse of the Edringtons, who were now laying sated and exhausted in each others arms, closed the peephole and, retrieving the candle, moved on.


	11. Chapter 11

The whispering voices became louder as they reached a steep stone stairway, but the unease was now shattered by their previous passionate actions. Buoyed by the strength of that intimacy, Cora no longer seemed reluctant to carry on but curious to see what lay ahead, though she still kept a strong grip on his hand. There was no place to go but up and so they did, climbing the slightly spiral stair with caution as the rock was damp and somewhat slippery, making their ascension fairly treacherous. Much to Horatio's interest, the sound of the howling wind was receding indicating that they were moving away from whatever outlet to the outside might have been hidden within the passage.

Though the voices ebbed and flowed, a softly echoed moaning surrounded them the farther they went along, reverberating against the walls and, seemingly, the darkness itself. Though he said nothing of it to Cora, Horatio was seriously beginning to question the validity of his staunch sensibility when, with a small start, he came across a thin break in the wall radiating a gentle light. He cursed himself for his first impression that he had come across some sort of apparition, realizing it was only another secret door cracked open only slightly so it would not be noticed presumably by the occupants of the room it opened into. Someone liked to watch. "I'm going to look what's up ahead," Corisande told him matter-of-factly when she realized he was bent on once again spying on whomever was inside the room. "Give me the candle so I won't be tripping about in the dark!"

"Have you gone mad?" he scoffed. "I'm not going to let you wander off on your own! It could be dangerous, Cora!"

"You're stubborn!" she objected, pouting, letting him know she would not stop needling him until she got her way.

"So are you!" he shot back. "Which is why I love you," he sighed, kissing her softly and placing the candle in her hand. "Don't go off too far and if you run into any trouble --anything, Cora!-- you call out to me right away!" She kissed him again, whispering soft words to him on why he was the most splendid man in the world which made him blush.

He watched her as she at first backed down the corridor, blowing him kisses as she went, until she and the low flicker of the candle rounded a bend and blinked out of sight. He shook his head, wondering with a hint of amusement just what exactly he had gotten himself into. Curiously, he turned back to the secret doorway and, gazing inside, discovered the source of the moaning.

At first he didn't recognize her, the woman sprawled out completely naked upon her stomach on the massive bed. Her once mousy blonde hair took on a golden sheen in the flickering candlelight of the opulent master bedroom, her hazel eyes seemed now flecked with bronze and her skin a pleasant tan against the crimson satin of the bed's coverlet. It was Trudy, the upstairs maid, her thin figure shimmering with a thin glaze of passion-induced sweat in the gentle orange twinkle of candlelight. So *this* is what she was hiding from Cora.

Strong, burly hands glided along her small backside delicately, relishing the feel of her slender curves as they moved down her legs capturing her ankle and smoothly coercing her knee to crook slightly so he could raise her petite foot to his mouth. Horatio leaned in further and almost burst out laughing when he caught sight of the owner of those hands: none other than Captain Foster himself! He too was in the altogether, showing off his taut, muscular form. As was befitting for a captain of his stature and reputation, he was in the best of physical condition; his chest and stomach, arrayed with a rather thick covering of dark wiry hair, were thick and brawny but still tight as a drum. From betwixt his thighs stood his awe-inspiring manhood, its crimson summit lazily poking its head out from beneath the soft folds of flesh. Even half-erect as it was at the moment, it would be the envy of most men, possessing both impressive length and width. Dreadnought indeed, Horatio thought with a certain amount of admiration. It was unquestionably a bowsprit *to be* envied.

Teasingly, Dreadnought ran his tongue along the sensitive sole of her foot, sucking into the warm wetness of his mouth her big toe until her girlish giggling turned into a groan. 'Ghostly moaning, indeed!' Horatio thought with a devilish grin. 'So this is what she was hiding from Corisande.'

Trudy gave a small cry of disappointment when he released her ankle and slipped off the bed. "Where are you going, Dready?"

Warning: If you are a member of the People Against the Unethical Treatment of Fruit Society, read NO further. If not, enjoy the Fun with Fruit lesson.

He did not answer but instead rejoined her on the bed with a small silver bucket of... what was it? Horatio strained to see and was rewarded a moment later when Dreadnought plucked a small red fruit, a strawberry, from the bucket and began to trace patterns upon her bare flesh with the tip of the berry. He squeezed it lightly so its juice dripped onto her naked bottom then lowered his head to lap the juice up like a cat, making exaggerated sipping sounds as he licked it up from her two flat globes and the crack between. She spread her thighs, purring luxuriously as he traced the strawberry down between them, forcing the fruit past her pouting nether lips and into the luscious moist folds of her sex. She keened her delight, feeling the cool fruit penetrate her burning notch as she arched her back, affording him and even more pleasing view of her womanly charms. Her glistening juice mixed with the that of the strawberry, covering both the fruit and his fingers as he moved it inside of her.

He removed the berry and, brining it his lips, sucked her own creamy flavor from it first before pulling it into his mouth, groaning as he enjoyed the sweet taste of the fruit mingled with her sticky essence. He retrieved another strawberry then and began the same lascivious dance against her intimate flesh, nuzzling her rear with his mouth and nose as he slowly plunged the fruit into her, lazily flicking her clitoris with the tip of his fat finger. She wriggled and moaned, writhing as she shared in this wicked game.

Once again he pulled his fingers away but this time he had left the berry gorging the entrance of her hot, wet tunnel. Licking the mingled juice from his fingers, he put his hands on her hips and forced her to her knees while her head still remained resting against the coverlet. He spread her thighs as far as they would go and buried his mouth in the muff of her coarse dark feminine hair from behind, his thick tongue darting into her, playing with the strawberry, making her wild with desire. He lapped at her hungrily, sucking the fruit between his lips and consuming it even as he feasted on her, slurping her up noisily with wanton enjoyment while his fingers worked the firm little bundle of nerves hiding within the hood of her cunny. His lips and tongue smacked against her salty sweet skin as he gulped down surge after surge of the honeyed deluge of Venus' offering. Trudy clawed at the bedcovers frantically, squirming, crying her rapture again and again at her paramour's debauched oral activities. Finally, her muscles tightened and she called out his name reverently. Horatio could only imagine the generous amounts of her heated spending that now filled Dreadnought's mouth as she reached crisis but he could visibly see how much pleasure it gave the older man as he drank it up, his cock now stretched almost to its full measure.

Both were panting as he pulled away, using his talented tongue to lick up the gloss of her pearly cum from his lips and chin. He gave her a playful and complimentary smack upon her bottom as she gazed back at him a look of appreciation in her heavy lust-filled half-lidded eyes. "You, sir," she grinned, her voice low and husky with passion, "are remarkable. Looks like your cannon is loaded and at the ready once again. The fifth time! Honestly, Dready!"

"Remarkable, am I?" he grinned, levering himself to his knees and positioning his hips between her parted thighs as he prepared to take her in dog fashion. The skin of his sex, now swollen and engorged to its fullest, brushed lightly against her pouting cleft, making her shiver in anticipation. The massive helmet of his prick finally nestled its flushed head into her, stretching her as he pushed in, gaining inch by inch with each forward lunge of his hips. He was taking her slowly, frightened of doing her harm with the massive size of his machine he stroked in gradually until he was finally buried up to the hilt in her. He had her to her very limits as he started to pump, his largeness and her tightness creating such a delicious suction; Horatio could see as he withdrew that her cunt seemed loath to part with the scrumptious morsel it was devouring as the lips of her vagina seemed literally to cling to his rod, holding on and following as he withdrew and plunged in again with rising fire each time. Good Gawd, the man knew how to steer his frigate. Horatio bit his lip as his hand came to rest against his own burgeoning lust at the front of his trousers. He wished Corisande was there with him as he caressed himself through the heavy woolen fabric roughly.

So fierce were the cries coming from both their throats, so barbaric their movements against each other Horatio was not surprised when fulfillment came upon both of them in a matter of moments. "Roger, oooooooohhhhhh, Roger, harder, take me," she panted wildly, "take me, errrrrrrrrr! No one feels as good as you, fuck me! Fuck me! Oh Gawd, oh Gawd-d-d....!" Arching, he climax slammed into her almost as furiously as Dreadnought was. Her words sent him over the edge and he too achieved love's dearest triumph as she went to shudders around him, shooting a stream of his burning semen into her.

Removing himself from her, he turned her over and fondled the two small firm mounds of her breasts, suckling greedily upon her delectable pink strawberry-like nipples. He was treating her so tenderly, so lovingly, not just like another casual fuck; it made Horatio wonder. He thought on Cora's mother and speculated that maybe Trudy reminded him of her, even in the smallest way. 'I've got you now, old man,' Horatio thought with a grin. 'Just wait.' They were still making love, their mouths and tongues dueling, when Horatio felt a hand on his shoulder and jumped, suppressing a sound of surprise. He turned to find Cora standing in behind him, glancing inquisitively in the direction he'd been staring. He steered her away even as she inquired with a smile, "What is it, Horatio? More people being terribly naughty?"

"Nothing, it's nothing," he replied. "What did you find?"

"Oh, come now, Horatio," she giggled. "Do you think I do not know of my father's amorous nighttime activities? I did tell you I know his...eccentricities better than any other."

Horatio frowned. "How did you know this was your father's chamber?"

"I think you should come with me," she told him, her shoulders tensing and her brow furrowing worriedly.


	12. Chapter 12

As they moved away from Dreadnought's room, the moaning faded and once again the voices took dominance in the increasingly narrow tunnel. Yet another secret door appeared before them and Corisande tip-toed towards it with a curious amount caution. It was ajar, more so than the others; this room had been entered, not merely watched as the others had been, and the person who had entered had been quite careless in leaving it open.

"Jenny's chambers," she whispered, her voice so quite it was barely as a summer breeze against the grasses. "They are connected to my father's by a small parlor," she explained, gesturing in the direction they had come and the other secret doorway where Horatio had observed Foster. Horatio measured the distance in his head and concluded it was accurate; this must be Lady Jane's room.

He opened his mouth to say something but Cora instantly silenced him, wordlessly motioning for him to listening. Indeed, the closer they got to the door, the more focused the whisperings became; they took shape, becoming real voices. Two of them, male and female. He could only assume the woman was Lady Jane but the man he did not recognize; his thick cockney accent was quite unlike any of the people he had met at the Close so far. Horatio edged closer and finally the words became solid, a conversation. "I told you, not now!" Jenny hissed, and Horatio smiled as he imagined her male companion's sexual advances rebuked. "We have more troubles to worry on and you are drunk!"

"I am nawt!" the cockney voice objected, his speech somewhat slurred. "I tol yer da business canna be done tanight! E's having 'es sport with 'es little chit this evening and we canna risk her finding out, now can we?!"

"We have bigger problems than just making everyone believe my beloved husband," she said those words with sneering contempt, "has gone mad. This Hornblower fellow's going to ruin all our plans. That little bitch is too fond of him and so is her half-wit of a father! Our plans to marry her are now unacceptable; neither her nor that boar will ever go along with it now that she has a real suitor."

"Wot do yer suggest then, eh?" the male voice scoffed. "Killing 'er?" A moment of silence. "Oh, Jenny, twere only a joke!"

Horatio wrapped his arms around Corisande tightly, hugging her to his chest protectively and stroking her hair. The brave little dear; how she suffered talk of her own murder so courageously. Horatio was quite sure any other woman would have swooned by now. But his Cora was enduring it remarkably well...although she was shaking and holding to him as firmly as she could. She really was exceptional, he mused; he'd seen grown men bear lesser news with more distress.

"What choice have we?!" snapped Jenny. "The money is running out; I can't keep it from Roger for very much longer. His prize money would be more than enough to keep us afloat but he is stingy with it; he saves it for Corisande's future! With him in an asylum and his sweet little child dead, we would be free, free to be together and I would have money enough to keep the estate!"

"Jenny, you're mad! Iffin we kilt Corisande, they would know... they would figure it out!"

"Not if we made it look like an accident," Jenny replied, her voice alive with scheming. "She is fond of the lake, no? What if she were to by chance fall in and drown? It's as simple as that, my love!" The man seemed reluctant but finally agreed as he approached the secret passageway to leave. Panicking, Horatio blew out the candle and pulled Cora and himself further into the suffocating shadows. The man exited, his face turned to the darkness so they could not determine his identity as he closed the hidden door behind him. Horatio scarcely dared to breathe as the figure passed and continued down the tunnel, unaware of the two sets of eyes watching him. When they were quite sure he was out of distance, Horatio took Cora by the hand and led her back to where they had marked the secret door to her chambers. He was relieved to see her garter undisturbed; it had not been noticed. He opened it and pushed her inside, rushing to gather his clothes as she stood by nervously and watched. "Aren't we going to follow him?"

"*We* are not going to follow him," Horatio asserted, pulling his shirt over his head. "*I* am going to, *you* are going to go to your father's room and explain everything to him. Right now he's the only one I trust to keep you safe!"

He was expecting an argument, her usual stubborn insistence, but was surprised by her unusually somber replied. She embraced him softly and kissed him. "Be careful, Horatio," she said brushing her hand against his cheek lightly. "I love you."

He was moved by the simple tender gesture, puzzled and then touched by her warmth. "I will be, I promise." He kissed her back and, slipping his shoes on and grabbing another candle, entered the passageway again. He closed the door behind him and was once again enveloped in the tunnel's threatening blackness.

The man was far ahead but Horatio could still hear and sense his motions in the eerie stillness of the passage. He followed him swiftly, using all of his naval experience to go as quickly and as undetectable as possible. After what seemed like ages of walking, the tunnel began to widen, its walls expanding outwards until he found himself in a large square underground room. What remained of many different stalls stood against the walls like rooms or small houses. Whatever and wherever this was, it had once served as a residence of sorts; perhaps as quarters to the nuns that had worshipped in the abbey so long ago, perhaps to the servants in the early days of the castle, he could not guess. He seemed to sense that it was a place of ghosts, if ever such a thing existed, and was instantly uneasy about disturbing it.

The wind was louder here, practically ripping through his flesh with its icy fingers, the howling almost too much to bear. He followed it up a small flight of stone steps at the end of the room and found himself pushing aside a dirty old hanging as he entered the next chamber. The chapel...he was in the chapel! So that was the breeze he had felt earlier upon his neck! The rain pounded the small building mercilessly and thunder rumbled ominously, sounding as if the skies themselves were shouting. He glanced out the entrance trying desperately to find the man he had been pursuing but to no avail. The sheets of rain obscured his vision while the wailing wind made it impossible to follow the sounds of his footsteps. DAMN! He had lost him.

Defeatedly, he returned to the underground passageway and he made his way back to the castle, now aware of how much ground he was covering and burdened by it. If the chase had been long on the way out, it seemed even longer walking back unsuccessful. He did not bother with the formalities of entering Corisande's room, thus taking the regular hallways and stairs to Captain Foster's chambers, but instead continued on along the tunnel. He peered in through the secret door to Dreadnought's bedding chamber, Trudy was gone and he was relieved to see Cora safe and sound, curled up in a woolen blanket upon a fainting sofa, her father's strong arms around comfortingly. A pang of jealousy struck him; he wanted that role, to hold her, to soothe her, to love her. It struck him for the first time consciously: he wanted to be her husband.

Taking a deep breath, he pushed the door open and entered. Foster, who was as anxious as an over-wound clock, jumped to the ready instantly, aiming his pistol, ready to fire. He sighed, recognizing Horatio and throwing the gun aside. "Good Gawd, man," he said sharply, "give us some warning next time, eh?"

Corisande sprang to her feet and threw her arms around him happily. "You're all right! Not that I ever doubted you would be, but I was worried." He returned her embrace awkwardly in front of Dreadnought at first, then, becoming bolder at the feel of her wrapped around him, holding her tightly and reassuringly. He had no idea that Foster was now feeling that same pang of envy he had felt only moments ago.

"Well..." Dreadnought prompted him.

"He got away," Horatio admitted with an apologetic purse of his lips. "I didn't even see who it was."

"That's all right, lad," Foster said, clasping Horatio's shoulder and squeezing fondly. He had gone after him, through untold dangers this boy had gone after the man who intended to harm his daughter and him. His thoughts drifted to that astounding show of reckless bravery Horatio had displayed upon that fireship in Gibraltar harbor. Lord, that seemed like such a long time ago he reflected as he smiled, albeit meekly. Then too he had rushed headlong into a dangerous situation to protect the people he cared for. He was a good lad, true and brave, and more than suited to take care of his Corisande.

"Cora has told you everything?" Horatio inquired.

Foster nodded. "Leave it to that bitch of a wife of mine and her conniving!" he swore. Corisande had no returned to her place on the sofa and was dozing off even as she watched them intently. "What do you propose we do, Mr. Harnblower?"

"I--I do not know, sir," Horatio said, his fatigue finally getting the better of him.

"Sleep on it then," Foster barked. "A solution will present itself in the morning, I am sure."

"Corisande...?"

"She'll sleep in here," Dreadnought said, glancing towards her. "I'll watch after her; she'll be safe here." Unspoken but undeniably hanging in the air was the added comment, 'From the likes of you as well!' Horatio assented and stumbled off to his chamber, now fully exhausted.


	13. Chapter 13

The sky remained gray and overcast as dawn broke. The customary boisterous gaiety of the breakfast room seemed even more shallow and hollow than usual to Horatio's ears. Corisande's entrance, along side the Lord and Lady Edrington, was a welcome sight to his tired eyes and he was doubly relieved to see Dreadnought enter moments later, his keen, watchful eyes sweeping the room suspiciously. "Good morning, Horatio," Edrington called good-naturedly as he and his small party seated themselves upon an isolated group of sofas.

"We've still last night to discuss," Horatio said quietly to his friend as he joined them.

"Come now," Alexander laughed, "you're not sore about the little plan we came up with, are you? Come then, don't tell me you didn't have at least a spot of fun."

Horatio grinned grudgingly, giving Edrington all the answer he needed. "You look like a jackass," Horatio told him as the man's face broke into a knowing smile.

"And you look like the cat who just swallowed the canary," Alexander replied with a short bark of laughter. He laid his hand on his wife's knee and the two exchanged a very amorous gaze and Horatio and Cora shared a knowing smile.

"Do you take cream in your tea, Commander Hornblower?" Frances asked innocently as she poured. As she leaned forward, her silken gown gaped away from her body affording him a most delicious view of the luscious hills of her milk-swollen bust.

"Breast please...errrr...ummmm... I mean, yes! Yes, please!" Horatio choked out in reply, his eyes instantly falling to the lovely curve of her creamy bosom; her voice drifted into the background as memories of Alexander's greedy attentions to them last night swimming through his head and fogging his thoughts. The sudden image of her taking her bodice down and squeezing one of her lovely rosy nipples over the delicate china cup as milk flowed from it into the steaming liquid seized him and his coughing became uncontrollable.

"Oh dear, you haven't taken ill, have you?" Corisande asked trying to calm his cough with mock concern for she knew exactly what has set him off. Frances spoke some words of comfort but to no avail, the fit continued and her words were smothered by the sounds of his choking.

"Excuse me, my Lady," he said trying to recover himself, "but I cunt...c-cunt, can't, couldn't hear a word you said." Corisande had a feeling that the redness of his face had very little to do with his coughing attack as she herself had to fight to keep back her own laughter. If he had had the nerve to look into Alexander's face, he would have seen the Earl's eyebrow arched curiously.

"It's the blasted weather," Frances repeated herself kindly, as to whether or not she had noticed Horatio's little slip up she gave no sign, "the dampness in the air. I haven't felt myself all day."

"Yes...yes...that's it...the dampness in the hair...I mean air!" Horatio stumbled once again. If possible the Earl's eyebrow shot up even further and a sly smirk graced his elegant mouth. Now what was he on about this morning? He _must_ have had a good night, the poor fellow couldn't get his mind off the subject. Horny Horatio; he'd have to remember that nickname.

"Horatio," Cora whispered in his ear when the Edringtons had busied themselves with breaking fast, "I need to talk to you...alone." He nodded, wondering at the dark glint in her eyes. He returned her serious gaze with one of concern as she led him out into the hall just beyond the breakfast room. Her manner was nervous as she retrieved a small folded piece of paper from a hidden place within her dress. She handed it to him. "When I went to get dressed this morning, I found that waiting--slipped beneath my door during the night I should imagine."

Horatio took the note from her and unfolded it, his look of concern deepening as he read it:

_Dear Miss Foster,_

_Please excuse this somewhat covert form of communication. Your life is in danger Please meet me at the old church on the edge of the grounds tonight around midnight. It is of the upmost urgency!_

It was unsigned. "Well, it's obviously a trap!" he snorted, indignant at the thought that anyone would consider his Corisande to be so gullible. "What did your father say?"

"I haven't showed him yet," she confessed, knocking Horatio speechless. She trusted him with this, even above her own dear father. The thought made him feel an odd sense of pride and warmth.

"Who do you think...?"

"Well, Lord Peter, who else can it be?" she replied. "I thought it was obvious. His tenacious pursuit of me; if I were to marry and my father was declared insane, all of my father's assets would go to him, and if Jenny was his lover, to her as well! You heard them speak last night, she's in desperate need of the money!" She moved towards him and he excepted her gladly into his arms as she nudged towards him. "I'm frightened, Horatio."

"Hush, my dearest," Horatio told her, kissing and petting her hair. Never had he felt so close, so intimate with another living thing before, nor had he ever thought he wanted to. To be alone meant evading heartache; it meant avoiding feelings like he felt at the loss of his mother or Archie's death. As a matter of fact, he had always been much more guarded with the people he cared for the most. But here with Cora in his arms all he wanted to do was hold her, protect her, show her how much love was stored up in his previously stingy heart. He loved her. "I won't let anything happen to you, you know that, don't you?" She nodded meekly, sniffling slightly as she burrowed her face in his jacket. "This might be to our advantage," he said thoughtfully.

"*AHEM*" Foster cleared his throat loudly, startling the both of them. Horatio straightened though he kept his arms about her, his hand soothingly stroking the small of her back. "I believe we need to talk, Mr. Harnblower," he said, one bushy eyebrow shooting skyward. Corisande felt as if she were the object in a delightful game of tug-of-war between the two men she loved most and it thrilled her. "Cora, go find the Lord and Lady Edrington and stay with them; do not leave their side. Understood?"

She pouted for a moment, upset at being treated like a child by both of them but in the end she agreed. Once they were alone, Horatio handed Foster the note Cora had shown him. The older man's brow quickly clenched as he read it, crumpling it up in his fist and throwing it to the floor in a rage. "Demmit! Obviously a trap!"

"As I thought as well," Horatio said gravely. "But it may be an opportunity as well. We still do not know who the man with the Lady Jane last night was; this might offer some insight. We might very well be able to entrap him and your wife as well..."

"Are you suggesting entreating my sweet little girl to enter a potentially perilous situation?!" Dreadnought's voice boomed as his face reddened.

"We would be there protecting her, the both of us," Horatio added abruptly. "It is no more dangerous, sir, than to ask her to face everyday knowing that there is an unknown foe out there waiting for the right moment to make his move, to do her the ultimate injury?!" Foster could see he had a point but the idea of placing Corisande into such a position did not sit right with him. Horatio could see that it was the perfect time to unleash his 'extra added motivation'. "What are your thoughts on strawberries, sir?" he said, a sly smirk crossing his full mouth as the question caught the salty captain by surprise.

"What do you know about strawberries, Mr. Harnblower?" he asked gruffly.

"I know _plenty_ about strawberries," Horatio continued to smile deviously. His expression turned serious, "Sir, I would never let any harm befall Corisande, on my life. I am as worried about her as you; that is why I encourage this course of action. Better to have a plan."

"Indeed," sighed Foster. "What were you thinking?"

"We could use Lord Edrington's assistance as well; assuming that this is a trap, we'll need all the men we can trust," Horatio said thoughtfully. "Perhaps we should explore the tunnels, familiarize ourselves with them in case the perpetrators of this heinous crime try to use them as an escape route. Perhaps we can inquire as to whether the servants are well-acquainted with them; I know they use a close themselves that runs underground to get to the main road. Perhaps your friend Trudy could help."

The captain waved his hand in an absent minded gesture, as if to say 'consider it done'. He then took a deep breath and spoke. "I did not know," Dreadnought said as he heaved a burdened sigh. When Horatio shot him a questioning glance, he elaborated, "Jenny's financial woes. I would have given her anything she asked for but it is obvious it was never me she wanted. And now I've endangered my cherished Corisande. I feel like an old fool. But I can't understand why she would choose me. Surely there are richer men she could have charmed."

"This was not your fault, sir," Horatio consoled him awkwardly, but he could not help but ask himself the very same question. Why had she chosen Foster? It would have been easier to scam a Duke or an unwed Admiral who had no heirs to get in the way out of fortunes far more vast than the prize money the captain earned. It was a question that would have to wait for he knew he must focus all of his energies on protecting Corisande.

"You do love her, don't you, boy?" Foster asked, keenly regarding his junior.

"Yes, sir," Horatio answered earnestly. "I believe I do, very much."

"Jolly well, then; won't have to kill you! So, are you going to stand there all day like you've got a stick up your arse," barked the captain, that same old familiar mischievous spark returning to his dark eyes, "or are you going to enlighten me as to this plan of yours?!"


	14. Chapter 14

The moon hung low and pregnant in the misty velvet blue of the of the midnight sky, bleeding eerie yellow light across the lands of Valiant Close and lighting Corisande's way as she moved towards the old abbey. She purposely made as much noise as she could so the figures moving in the shadows would be able to better keep track of her. The bitterly cold wind bit at her cheeks, causing her to huddle deeper into the wool of her cloak. She shivered as the pervading chill seeped into her bones and the dark form of the church took shape in the near distance. She took a deep breath and, searching the blackness of the night for support, moved forward cautiously up the broken stone path. As her ankles became tangled in the thick undergrowth, she gasped in surprise...imagining someone's hands reaching out to capture her. She took one last glance up at the moon just as a thick gray cloud floated before it and pushed at the decayed wooden door of the chapel.

It was dark and damp inside and she had to squint against the gloom as she entered, tripping over the decomposed remains of the pews. Something brushed her shoulder and she jumped, reaching her hand out tentatively, grasping a heavy leather object. She frowned. Just then the moon peeked out from behind its dusky mantle flooding the tiny building with dim, ghostly light. She saw now that the object in her hand was a boot. Her gaze followed it upwards--a leg, a torso, up to Lord Peter's dead and ashen face. She screamed pushing him away as if that would help; he only swung back and forth by the rope that he was strung up by, his feet coming back at her as she batted them away desperately.

She backed away, her heart racing, hoping against hope that her protectors had heard her shout. She stopped as her back came to rest upon something solid; it was not a wall, not the door, but a chest. For a moment she breathed a sigh of relief, believing it to be her father or Horatio but as she turned a shrill scream ripped from her throat involuntarily once again as she found herself face to face with Froderick. His face, his wide grin, looked ghastly in the pale moonlight as he leveled at her the cocked pistol he clutched in his hand. "You," was all she could gasp out. "But, but Peter..."

"A shame really," Froderick replied coldly. "He was game at first, to marry such a lovely little lady and her ample inheritance. Oh yeah, he had plans for you," he licked his lips lecherously. "Unfortunately, old Pete here did not care for the idea of killing you because it meant he was out of the scheme. He was going to ruin everything! He really thought he could deliver that note to you without us finding out about it, the idiot! It was inconvenient, but it provided us with quite the opportunity. You see, Peter here is going to kill you. Well, obviously, he's not going to do anything now but his suicide note will claim differently. You see, he killed you in a jealous rage after you rejected him for that gangly scarecrow Hornblower and, after dumping your body in the lake in remorse, decided to do himself in. Shame really."

"But you're not the one," she stuttered, shaking from fear. They were there, they were going to protect her; she just had to keep her calm and trust them. "The voice I heard in Jenny's room, it wasn't you!"

"Oh?" he asked, laughing. "'Ow about this then, love?" His voice changed; gone was the proper inflection, replaced by the same cockney intonation she'd heard coming from Lady Jane's room the previous night. She covered her mouth in shock. "Yeah, 'at's right, love. Dickie Oakum from Souf London, 'at's me. Surprised? Now it's time to say g'night, lovie," he said, raising the pistol.

A shot sounded and Cora jumped, squeezing her eyes shut as she waited for the inevitable impact of pain to rip through her as the ball tore at her flesh and muscle. None came. As she opened her eyes again, she saw that Froderick was glancing down at his own chest as his shirt pooled with blood, a bright patch of red growing ever larger. "Bugger," he said, collapsing to his knees and then onto his face, dead. Horatio stood behind him, his gun still aimed and smoking from its shot, a look of rage and concern tightening his handsome features. He cast the pistol aside.

"Oh dear," Cora said quietly and Horatio rushed towards her to catch her falling body as she fainted dead away, embracing her firmly, stroking her hair.

The tapestry at the far end of the building rustled and Hornblower looked to his companion. "Lady Jane," he said and Dreadnought nodded, reluctant to leave his daughter in such a state but knowing she was at least in good hands. He threw the tapestry back and descended into the secret tunnel, giving chase to his deceitful wife. He was not as young as he used to be, he realized as his breath came harder and harder from his lungs but he would not let up. A frustrated scream met his ears and he ran towards it with all the strength he had left, finding Jenny in the grasp of Lord Edrington, struggling wildly against the Earl's tight grip. He was suddenly very glad Hornblower had talked him into letting His Lordship in on the plan.

"Bastards," she swore, crying uncontrollably. "You're all bastards! You've ruined everything!"

"Why, Jenny?" was all Foster could ask as he tried to pull air into his aching chest. "Why would you do this to me, to my family?"

"Because you took mine away from me!" she spat. "Do you remember a young commander by the name of Sir Allen Avris?! You fought a duel with him and won! He died from his wound you know, leaving his wife and infant daughter desolate, bound by his debt! You killed him over little more than a drunken argument! You killed my father! You killed him and left us to fend for ourselves! I remembered you, your name, all these years. When the opportunity arose to not only solve my financial troubles but to hurt you the way you hurt us, I couldn't resist! You bastard!"

Oh Gawd, Allen Avris; he remembered the little villain. There had been a fight, Avris had been beating the whore he had just enjoyed for no other reason than she demanded her rightful payment when Foster had intervened. The poor thing, black and blue from head to toe, threw herself at his feet, begging for his assistance. Lady of fallen virtue or not, he would not see a woman treated thusly! He had challenged the cad to a duel and won. He had never even considered that the knave had had a family; like father like daughter. He looked on her then with pity and disgust. "Get her out of my sight," he told Edrington. The Earl nodded and dragged the struggling woman away.

"Dammit!" Alexander cried suddenly as Jenny caught hold of his hand and bit down hard, simultaneously elbowing him in the ribs. She wiggled out of his grasp and ran as fast as her legs would take her, streaking past Foster; she was heading back towards the church. After taking a moment to recover themselves from the commotion, Edrington and Dreadnought took off after her.

"She's a wily little minx," Edrington commented wryly as they ran in pursuit.

"I married her, didn't I?" Dreadnought laughed.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Horatio tenderly brushed a stray glossy lock from Corisande's pale forehead as her eyes fluttered open. She moaned softly, burrowing her face into his chest, snuggling into his soothing embrace. She was alive and safe and in her lover's arms. She looked to him, her eyes brimming with sweet, affectionate tears as she kissed him gently in thanks. The feel of her lips upon his made Horatio shudder delightedly. He helped her to her feet, holding her as she steadied herself on wobbly legs. She blushed, abashed at having reacted so. Swooning like a delicate ninny; it was the last thing she had wanted to do in front of Horatio. She wanted to show him how brave she was; that was why she had agreed to do this in the first place. He kissed her again, wiping all doubt or embarrassment from her as his strong arm encircled her waist.

Without warning, a figure burst from the secret door behind the ancient tapestry, almost knocking them over as it sped by them like a blur. They stood there for an instant in confusion until Foster and Edrington appeared from behind the moldered cloth and explained as hastily as they could, not wanting to loose Jenny. The four of them gave chase then, plunging into the darkness recklessly.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Jenny panted, crying out desperately as she ran blindly through the wood, branches slashing at her face and arms, roots proving perilous obstacles for her dainty ankles. Everything looked the same in the dark and the trees themselves seemed to be leaning in closer as if to confuse her further. She stumbled out into a clearing and realized she had somehow made it to the lake. Wisps of mist rose from the water like apparitions and a fell breeze carried a foul odor on the air. She covered her mouth to keep from retching. They were close behind...she could hear them, almost feel them. Something drove her into the water, her skirts growing heavier the further she waded out until she was in up to her knees, then her waist.

A strange glow reflected off the water, surrounding Jenny in a sickly green radiance. She turned to see a figure, wan and slender, walking upon the water towards her, its arms outstretched in a frightening invitation. The golden strawberry hair, the aqua marine eyes, it looked like...but it couldn't be. Helen Foster, Roger's late wife. "You're dead," Jenny cried, panicking as she tried to turn and run in the opposite direction but something under the water had snagged her skirts and would not let go. "No, it' can't be you! You're dead! Stay away from me! Stay away! For the love of God, stay away from me!"

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Jenny's body lay face down, floating lifelessly on the surface of the black water, bobbing among the reeds and the dirty froth at the edge of the lake when they at last found her. Dreadnought waded in and retrieved her limp form, carrying it back to the castle. Finally, it had hit him and the full impact of what had transpired came crashing down upon him. He hated her; he hated her even as she lay dead upon her bed. He didn't care about the money or the deception; she had tried to take the one thing that truly mattered away from him: his daughter. He left her in disgust, not gazing upon her again until the coroner came to fetch the body in the morn.

He visited Cora's room to make she had suffered no ill effects from the whole affair, but found her in Horatio's arms and decided against entering. He must be getting old, he reflected, for he had killed men for less. But his baby girl looked happy and safe and, after all, that's what he wanted in the first place. Not wishing to disturb them, he staggered off to bed, smiling as he heard Trudy's soft footfalls against the wooden floor of his chamber and felt her warm body climb beneath the coverlet next to him. "Poor Dready," she whispered in his ear huskily as she caressed his chest, "Trudy will make it right." Perhaps the night was not over yet.


	15. Chapter 15

"Can I come with you tomorrow when you leave for Portsmouth?" Corisande asked, snuggling into Horatio's shoulder as the soft candlelight flickered romantically about the smallish bedding room of Horatio's guest chamber.

"I do not think your father would be too taken with the idea," Horatio chuckled softly. It had been a month, a wonderful month since Jenny's scheme had been thwarted, a month spent idling in Cora's company. But at last the inevitable had happened and he had been recalled to duty. He was to leave tomorrow, given his first *real* command. He was, of course, proud and delighted but somewhat dispirited at the thought of having to leave his lovely little Cora behind. He realized this is something that many naval men experienced when setting to sea again and he consoled himself with the fact that their reunion would be a joyful and *active* one!

"And how would he feel knowing I used the secret passageways to sneak into your room?" she shot back playfully, tickling his hardened nipple through the cotton of his shirt. He groaned and smiled lazily, guiding her hand beneath the fabric so she could amuse herself with the nub unimpeded. She kissed him deeply upon his luscious lips, savoring their flavor and their fullness. "You'll be a long time at sea. You'll forget about me!"

"I shan't," he insisted, grasping her thigh and urging her to straddle him, her legs closing tightly about his waist as he lay on his back and she loomed over him. He moved her so the treasure between her thighs rested upon his awakening manhood straining through his trousers for release. He moved his hips against her, lifting her nightshift so he could feel her bare softness wet the fabric that lay between it and his alert sex. She gasped and braced her hands on either side of his head as he just smiled wickedly. "Every time I take that most eager piece of flesh you feel now against you into my hand, I shall think of you and only of you, my dearest."

"You've become quite wicked!" she laughed, biting her lip euphorically. "Would you not dream of Lady Edrington, then? You did seem quite taken by her figure."

"Are you jealous, my love?" he asked with a sensual grin, regarding her through half-lidded pools of fire and chestnut brown. "She did have an exceptionally fine pair of titties," he said taking Cora's own in his hands, admiring their shape and size and suppleness, the way her nipples pebbled against his palms. "Second only in my estimation to the two I hold in my hands at this moment."

"And you reprimand me for my language!" she scoffed.

"Perhaps you have been a bad influence on me," he teased.

"You liked looking at her."

"I like feeling you better," he licked his lush lips lecherously, taking hold of her waist and urging her upwards against his chest. "And tasting you even better. Over my mouth, my sweet."

"You are wicked!" she gasped, kneeling so that her knees surrounded his head and his mouth was poised directly below her hungry slit. She could feel each puff of his hot breath on her aching notch as wetness pooled within her. She grasped the headboard, wriggling her hips excitedly, waiting for that first delicious contact. She threw her head back and cried aloud as his lips gently brushed hers in soft, teasing, scrumptious kisses. Finally, he parted her juicy folds with his thumbs and drove his mouth into her with an insatiable craving. His lips lapped up her dearest ambrosia even as it rushed from her under the depraved stimulation of his tongue. As he sucked the nectar from her womanly peach, she ground herself against him, well oiling his lips, chin, and nose with her pearly emissions. He loved her smell, her taste; salty like the sea air, sweet and thick like cream soaked in rose petals. He devoured her greedily, a banquet all his own and he was a starving man, plunging his tongue into every secret recess of her delectable femininity.

Corisande could hardly believe what she was feeling; the sensation of the roughness of his heated tongue licking up her body's silky lustful liquor was driving her to the boundaries of her sanity. His fingers had found their way up her chemise and were expertly plucking at her blossoming nipples. She couldn't stand it anymore, she was overcome with the naughty urge all of a sudden to return the favor. Twisting, never leaving his mouth but turning so her round bottom filled his view quite satisfactorily, she bent over him and freed his prick from the heinous prison of his breeches. She was delighted to find it at full length, saluting her most boldly. Grinning and enjoying every sup of his oral attentions, she took the large crimson head between her lips fiercely, swirling her tongue around the cherry-colored cap, flicking the ridge at its base with the tip as she relished the potent taste of his masculine arousal as the first tangy droplets of his pre-cum spilled onto her tongue. She took as much of his ample length as she could into her mouth, suckling with abandon as her hand encircled the base of his magnificent cockstand. She cupped the heavy sac that hung between his muscular thighs, feeling it grow taut as she massaged his balls delicately. Pleased by the response, she lowered her head and gently licked his firm stones; tickling him, planting sucking kisses along the throbbing flesh, finally pulling their warm weight into her mouth one by one, sucking gently. His moans vibrated ferociously against the sensitive flesh of her masterpiece of beauty as she frigged his shaft with her fist and paid tribute to his balls with her lips.

His aggressive tonguing of her private places became frenzied, the thick wet organ thrusting inside of her tight moist channel as his fingers found the blushing nubbin of flesh within her womanhood; rubbing, pinching gently as he explored and taunted the thin barrier between pleasure and pain. She fairly screamed in ecstasy, moving against his hand and mouth emphatically, his nose burrowing into the crack of her bottom. She felt his solid stones grow ever more taut and she knew he was on the edge of spending. She took his rod once more into the burning embrace of her mouth and sucked with rampant fervor until, at last, he cried out into her cunny and poured hotly into her mouth. She gulped down love's thick elixir as it burst forth from him, eruption after eruption, as she came against his lips at the same time, achieving bliss simultaneously.

They lay for a long moment recovering themselves from their mutual earth-shattering orgasm. Finally, Corisande worked up the strength to move, lying atop him the proper way around, resting her cheek against his heaving chest. "Now you have given me something more to dream about, my Cora," he laughed breathlessly, "as you do every time you touch me." They kissed passionately and he sucked his own flavor from her mouth with relish, their respective essences mingling as their kiss deepened ravenously. "I love you so dearly; I cannot wait for my return. Then we will marry."

"You are not upset that you did not take my maidenhead? Most men would want to be their future wife's first."

"I took your most important maidenhead, my love," he grinned, placing his hand flat against her breast. "The one guarding the way to your heart. And it is mine forever for conquering it." He was silent for a minute and his grin widened. "Though should I ever chance to meet up with this Llewellyn fellow, I will give him what for! I'm am told he would be easy to locate him; simply search out and find the oldest midshipman in the Navy!" They both laughed and fondly Corisande began showering his leanly powerful chest and hard cinnamon male nipples with kisses, squirming against him excitedly.

Quickly, his organ regained its vigor; she could feel it brushing imploringly against the inside of her silken thigh. She smiled, mounting his hips and, positioning the ruby head of his staff between her pouting lips, sank down upon him. He groaned, watching as her slick, greedy opening swallowed him up until he was in her to the hilt. Her tight sheath clasped him quite delightfully, throbbing and clenching around his invading manhood until he could no longer hold himself back. Grabbing hold of her hips to keep her still and in the position he desired, he thrust upwards into her violently; drawing out and renewing the assault again and again. She bit back a cry, feeling the swollen tip of his dick stroke the entrance to her womb with ever push. He was heaving his backside savagely off the bed with every lunge into her pulsating warmth, penetrating places in her that no man had experienced before him. He gazed up at her, brushing the hair tenderly from her face as it fell around her like nightfall. So this is what it was like, to care for one woman only, to learn her in ways only man could learn the woman he loved. And he wanted to know all of her.

He flipped them over so he now rode her, pinning her arms against the mattress as he moved on her like an animal. He watched her intently, memorizing every look of agonized rapture that crossed her features, every sound of ultimate pleasure that left her softly parted lips. He loved her so very deeply, an all encompassing sort of a emotion. He had discovered with her how those feelings of love could intensify the physical sensations of fucking, and it was intoxicating! He wanted to fill her, to spend completely everything he had into her; his life, his passion, his soul, his seed.

He felt so good, he made her feel so good, that tears had begun to flow freely from her tightly shut eyes. She wrapped her legs around his slender waist and arched her back aggressively as her crisis ripped through her relentlessly, her entire body feeling like one exposed quivering nerve. His heated breath scorched her neck as he roared and followed her over the edge, pumping his sperm deep inside of her. Their bodies aching pleasurably from their brutal exertions, they collapsed in a sweaty, panting heap. Adoringly, he kissed her tears away, holding her to his breast as if he might never let go. Such love, such voluptuousness, such gratification!

Grinning, he slid off the bed, ignoring Cora's protests as he removed himself from her embrace. "Where are you going, Horatio?" she pouted, spreading herself langorously across the bed as she stretched. She watched with curiosity as he fetched a small white wicker basket and returned to the bed, his dark eyes smoldering with insatiable sensuality.

"Strawberries?" she frowned. "Horatio, what are you going to do with.... ahhhhhhh! Oh my! Oh, Horatio! Ohhhhhhhhh! Don't stop, Oh Gawd, don't stop! Oooooooooooo, errrRRRRR! Oh Horatio! And don't think you're *not* going to finish every berry in that basket, young man!" she panted.

"Oh, I plan on it, my lady!" he said, his big brown lust-clouded eyes regarding her from between her thighs.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The day was overcast, mirroring the feelings of Corisande's heart as she watched the footmen load Horatio's one bag onto the carriage. She watched as he said his good-byes to the Edringtons and even, begrudgingly, her father. With a smile, he tipped her chin up and gave her a light kiss upon her lips, swiftly sweeping her mouth with the tip of his wicked tongue. He wondered remotely if those sweet pouting lips of her pussey were still tinted a charming red as they had been last night from the strawberry juice. How much he would like to find out; lift her skirt and split open her soft folds like a ripe pomegranate, devouring the succulent ruby-stained pulp inside with his eyes, fingers, and tongue. But those thoughts had to be put on hold for now.

"I'll be waiting," she told him bravely. "And you better not do anything stupid, like get yourself hurt or killed or I shall be quite cross!"

"I promise, my lady," he smiled, giving her one last kiss. "I shall think of you everyday and," he added under his breath, "every night." He stepped inside the carriage and Cora blew him a kiss as the vehicle departed. Even though he was leaving her, she felt a strange warmth overtake her; a loving pride. Their love was stronger than anything, she knew; it had saved her life. She would be waiting when he returned and she would make him the best, and most wanton, wife as ever a seaman had.

He watched from the carriage window as she grew ever more distant from him until at last she was out of his sight. He still ached from his impassioned and forceful actions the night before, a delightful soreness for it reminded him of his lover's many charms. Nay, he would not soon forget them; not after six months at sea, not even after a year. He would come back to her and make her his wife; that promise he made to himself as well as to her. And if their marriage was even half as exciting as their courtship had been... 'Just you wait, my dear,' he thought to himself with a wicked grin, 'just you wait.'

**THE END**  



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